The Kingdom
by The Wandering Bard
Summary: A new threat emerges, far greater than the one that was posed by the now dead Voldemort. The Trio is broken. Harry is kidnapped. The muggles want to be more involved with and more capable against magic. Change is coming, along with another war. How will things end this time around? Hhr. AU
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

A new threat emerges, far greater than the one posed by Voldemort. The Trio is broken. Harry is kidnapped by an unknown but powerful being. The muggles want to be more involved with and more capable against magic. Change is coming, along with another war. New friends, new powers, new enemies, and new challenges await. Will Harry and the gang be able to save The Kingdom (UK) from destruction?

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**The Kingdom**

Prologue

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Prime Minister Edward Worthington was quite young for his position. At 35 years old he was quite young indeed. Most people who ascended to his current position were usually in their forties, well into their political careers. What had made him special in this regard was his sheer determination, willpower, and personality. He was also, of course, extremely ambitious and in the political game quite ruthless. Of course, it helped that his family was one of the wealthiest in all of England and that many of his relatives were already in government or had connections in government.

Add to that his extensive education at Oxford, and he was by far one of the most capable men to ever enter public service. Capable in terms of qualifications at least. Though he was still somewhat inexperienced, he did not let that hold him back. He learned quickly in politics that it's not just what you know but who you know, and more than enough people had approached him offering counsel and advice. As was the norm with that, he had to be careful who he confided in - not only because there would definitely be future obligations to that person but also because in the political world everyone was looking for weaknesses.

All of this paled in comparison to what he was hearing, however. Everything he had learned and experienced up to this point was trumped by the information being revealed to him in his new office. He was sure that his look of bewilderment was unbecoming of him, but he could not help it. How else were you supposed to react when you were told that magic was real and that there was an entirely different world out there, separate and yet integrated.

It was an older woman that sat in front of him, a few lines creasing her face and dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she had been through hell, and according to what she had been telling him she had. Along with the rest of the so-called Wizarding world of Britain. Her information also explained so much of the recent turmoil throughout the country, issues that he thought were isolated and were signs of unrest amongst the people. A clamor for change, one that he could bring about.

"Minister Worthington," said the Woman before him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her name was Amelia, he remembered. She was his counterpart in the Wizarding world, the Prime Minister of the magical government of England. "Our offices have always been tied together. While we are hidden away from the eyes of your world, whatever happens in one affects the other, more so of our side than yours. That said, it is important that when the need arises we work together."

Worthington nodded slowly. His mind was still processing everything he had been told. He managed to speak after a moment, "Minister... Bones," he said tentatively, his mind churning to action, "I understand and agree completely. We both govern England but we are as united as we are separate: two sides of the same coin. And what happens to one affects the other, yes, yes... that is most evident." He gave her a thoughtful and slightly pained look, "However, I must ask... what happened? To put it quite bluntly, your government failed when England needed it most - and many of my people have died. Don't even get me started on the property damage no doubt inflicted by your inability to control the situation."

She sighed heavily. The words stung her and made her somewhat angry, but this man was young and rash and with everything he had learned in the last hour he was understandably slightly overwhelmed with it all. He was also right. The Ministry had failed, but not because of any other reason than that the leadership and the old way of how things were done had failed. Simply put, the Ministry had been corrupted. Greed and fear held the Ministry in check until it was too late.

But all that was changing now.

"I apologize on behalf of the Ministry for the damages and the loss of life..." she began, her voice heavy and serious, "_We_ both lost a lot during this war, us more so than you. That is fact. Our entire society has been tossed about in a whirlwind of war and change, and we are only beginning to piece things back together and rebuild. We are hoping to start anew, and while I won't go into the details I can assure you that many of our laws and customs are changing." She paused and looked directly into his eyes, "It is extremely difficult to govern and regulate over a populace who can use magic, and corruption had made that task nigh impossible. But we will not make the same mistakes that nearly destroyed us, that I can assure you."

Worthington nodded, but he was not convinced. Not by a long shot. Already he was formulating plans. Plans that would ensure that not only would such a situation not escalate to the scale it had, but that if it ever did they would not be so helpless and uninvolved.

They spent a few more minutes going over the arrangements between the governments and promised each other that they would speak more sometime in the future to possibly change and update the agreements. Times had changed after all.

"Minister Worthington," said Amelia as she stood up and extended a hand, which he took. "It was a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Likewise, Minister Bones. I shall see you soon," he replied smoothly, "And Minister? Good luck."

The woman smiled sadly at that, letting go of his hand. He reached into her small purse for something and then threw it into the fireplace. Where there was once a low fire burning, a large burst of green flames erupted upwards with a whooshing sound. Without pause the woman stepped right into the fire.

Every instinct in Worthington's body screamed for him to stop her, but he did not. He had seen how she had arrived in much the same way, and it still fascinated and frightened him. Soon enough the flames returned to their normal orangey-yellow hue and dramatically reduced in size.

Leaning back in his chair, Worthington took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _Magic_, he thought.

A brief moment later and he activated the intercom on his desk, "Shelly, I want a meeting with the heads of MI5 and the SIS. Today."

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**Author's notes: **I am quite excited to write this story, and I hope you are excited to read on.

**EDIT: **To clarify - In my story, Amelia Bones did not die as she did in the books. I like her too much... haha plus I don't very much like Kingsley as a Minister, however temporary.


	2. Thinking

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

**Last top page Author's note** - all of my notes will be at the bottom of my chapters! Thanks and read on.

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**The Kingdom**

Thinking

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Harry James Potter lay on his bed, eyes fixated at the ceiling above him.

Light streamed in through the dirty windows of his room, two dull rectangles of light resting on the carpet. Two small, grimy windows that looked out onto the alleyway below. The room was sparsely furnished and old, but it was not the desire for comfort that had brought him there. He had wanted to be alone, away from everyone and everything that was happening outside. Before, that would have merited a stay at one of the rooms in the Leaky Cauldron, a bar visible to the muggles and that hid the entrance to Diagon Alley.

But that was too obvious of a choice. People would have searched for him there.

So a trip down Knockturn Alley had led him to a small, shady-looking inn - though everything there was shady anyways and thus it was normal. The old wizard who sat at the front desk gave him a curious look, not recognizing Harry as he had pulled up his hood over his head and had cast a few charms that obscured his face even further. He did not want to be recognized by anyone, and he succeeded in that regard. No words had been exchanged, only the placement of a small pouch of galleons and holding up one finger.

The old wizard nodded, somewhat wearily, and with surprising quickness snatched the pouch off the desk. He felt its weight, opened it up and peered inside, and surprise briefly flashed over his features. Then he took one of the gold coins and studied it closely. With a satisfied look he placed the galleon back into the pouch and it disappeared into the folds of his robes. A few seconds later and he had grabbed a key from the board of them behind him and handed it over to Harry, the room number embedded into it. As Harry had walked away he could feel the man's gaze on him.

That was two days ago.

He had made sure to pay more than enough for a week, perhaps even longer. He did not know the prices for the room, but it was safer to err on the side of paying too much. That also meant that the man out front would not try and disturb him, and would hopefully tell the others that worked there to do the same.

Sure enough, he had not been bothered at all. No one had even come in to try and clean up the room - though he wondered if it was because they normally did not or because they were giving him his privacy.

The bed was not very comfortable. Somewhat stiff and a the springs were noisy, but he had paid no attention to that. He ignored the complaints of his back, caught up in his thoughts. And for good reason. He was thinking on his life. Of past, present, and future. Mostly of the past though. The war. The violence. Deaths. Injuries. Friends. Foes. It all seemed as if it had been a bad dream and at any moment he would wake up to find himself... where?

He did not know where he would be if this had all been a product of his imagination. Perhaps with his parents? Perhaps their death was all part of that dream. That nightmare. But no, there was no waking up to a different reality. This was reality. He was merely having trouble accepting that fact because he had lost so much, given so much, and in the end he did not know what to do with himself. He had dreams before. The excitement of being a wizard had concocted all sorts of dreams of life beyond school.

A new Merlin perhaps, he had amusingly thought to become. Or traveling the world. Or maybe even going into outer space! With magic, anything was possible right? He laughed bitterly at the thought. Yes, anything was possible and it just so happened that his possibilities mostly involved being in mortal danger. _And mental danger_, he thought as his mind flashed to his visions and the lessons with Snape as well as the pain from the deaths or injuries of friends.

So he lay on the stiff bed, thinking. And as the light began to dim and eventually disappear he found himself alone in the darkness. Again.

He laughed bitterly at the truth of it. Yes, his friends helped him a great deal but in the end it was all him. He was the one who bore the scar, who shared the mental link with the damned Dark Lord. A link that nobody else could understand, not even Ron or Hermione. He was the one who fate had chosen to have the power to vanquish him, who carried that unwanted burden until the deed was done. And barely done at that.

Harry wondered what life would have been like to have been anyone else but himself. He had dreamed several times that Neville was the chosen one and he was the capable friend who helped him out. Following his thinking earlier, he wished mightily that this was all merely a bad dream - a very elaborate bad dream. He entertained thoughts that maybe he was in a coma in real life and his mind simply played out this nightmare because it could not break free from the grasp of the coma. All a dream...

_It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live_, the familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore echoed in his mind, breaking apart his train of thought and sending it crashing to the side.

He felt a prickle on the back of his neck and sat up straight, taking in a sharp breath as his eyes scanned the darkness. His eyes having adjusted to the faint light that glowed through the windows, he could make it the vague shapes of the few pieces of furniture in the room. The side table next to the bed. The desk across from the foot of the bed with a chair. The waste basket between the right end of the desk and the door near the corner. The coat rack that stood at an angle on the other side of the desk. And the wooden wardrobe leaning against the wall to the right of the bed.

Shaking his head he lay back down. _Great, I'm getting paranoid_, he thought. He still could not quite shake the feeling that he was being watched, but he ignored it.

"But what is there to live for?" he asked softly. He had seen the worst of people. Corrupt, greedy, power-hungry, murderous, violent, lustful. And the worst part about it was that there were more of them out there. Of that much he was sure. It was only a matter of time before some other evil filled the vacuum the death of Voldemort created and the cycle would repeat itself again. He wondered what the fates had in store, and whether or not another unlucky child would be chosen - branded to be a hero or to die, just as he had been.

After all, history has shown that Dark Lords do sprout up every few generations. Could he stand to go through another such war? He was not so sure and he wondered what Dumbledore had thought when Tom Riddle became Voldemort. Harry realized then how Dumbledore was slow to act - the old wizard could have stopped it all back then but he refused to believe that Riddle had been corrupted and compromised by the darkness that enveloped him. He refused to believe that another Dark Lord had risen because he did not want to go through another great war against another Dark Lord. Because with great power comes great responsibility.

He knew that with a new Dark Lord people would look to him for guidance, for help. And having gone through all that before it was no wonder he was reluctant to do so again. No wonder he welcomed the presence of a boy who at first knew nothing of magic and yet seemed destined to end the life of Tom Riddle.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear away those thoughts. There were roads of thought he did not want to go down, and that was one of them. If anything, he did not want to be the next Dark Lord. Oh, it was possible, but possibility was not the same as probability. And of course he had a choice, at least he hoped he did. Fate after all had a way of _nudging_ you in the 'right' direction.

He wanted to get away from it all. Leave. Never come back. He could have. Sometimes he thought that maybe he should have.

The big question eventually presented itself to him. What now?

He squirmed slightly on the inside. He did not know. Voldemort had always filled his future, and now that he was gone he felt lost. He had not thought much about what he was to do, which was why he was holed up in a dark room in some random inn off Knockturn Alley. A place where he suspected he would be the least likely to be found by anyone he knew. He needed to be alone for this.

Why? Because all his life he had been told what to do. He had never really had much choice. The prophecy. Dumbledore. Voldemort. The Ministry. His cursed muggle relatives. Hell, even Hermione and Ron at times. There were few instances in his life thus far, at least to Harry, that he had made his own choices. That he had felt in control of his life.

This was his chance to choose. A new chapter of his life was beginning, one that he was determined to be in control of as much as he could be. The problem was no longer his ability to choose, but his choices altogether. So what now? He pondered over the question, his mind running this way and that as he thought of many possibilities. Brief flashes from his imagination served to play out some of those possibilities, and none of them sparked any real interest in him. So he kept thinking.

A grumbling in his stomach alerted him to the fact that he had not eaten all day. And as that realization hit him he finally became aware of how weak he felt and of how dizzy he was becoming. He slowly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, feet placed softy onto the carpet. He briefly wondered whether the carpet was clean or not as he felt it, thin as it was, on the bottoms of his naked feet. With great effort he clothed himself properly for going out, making sure his hood was up and secure. Quickly casting some disguise charms he left the room for the first time that day.

Dim lighting barely illuminated the hallway, contributing to the shady and run-down feel of the place. He had no trouble finding his way to the stairs, however, and soon enough he passed the old wizard at the front desk who eyed him silently. Again Harry felt the man's gaze burning against the back of his head and mentally double-checked his mentally barriers to make sure they were up and his mind guarded.

As soon as he stepped out of the inn, his right foot landed in a puddle. His entire foot up to his ankle was drenched and, annoyed, he cast a drying spell. It had apparently rained earlier in the day, and thankfully it had stopped as he walked about. Harry wondered what time it was as he walked past many shuttered shops, some abandoned and vacant others closed for the night.

He walked in the general direction of Diagon Alley, hoping that perhaps closer to the main drag he would be able to find a place that was still open. Sure enough, a small cafe was still serving and he ordered several sandwiches - some of them to take back to the room. He ate quickly, gulping down several glasses of water as he also realized how parched he was. Satisfied and full, he left a decent tip as he grabbed the bag full of sandwiches and made his way back to the inn.

As he approached it he realized that it was called the Horned Frog Inn, the head of a giant horned frog staring down grimly at passersby. The small lobby was empty, the desk unmanned, but Harry did not think much on it as he walked on. Eventually, he reached his room and as he turned the key he thought he noticed movement in his peripheral vision, so as he opened the door he looked down the hall. He saw nothing and without a second look he walked in and shut the door. Making sure it was locked he placed the bag of food on the desk and then walked over slowly to the bed.

Removing the disguise charms and taking off the hood he lay back down on the bed, one leg bent with a foot on the ground and other up straight on the bed. Before long, sleep came for him and he welcomed it with open arms.

Because it was so dark in the room, he had failed to notice that the window was slightly cracked open or that there were wet footprints on the carpet. He had also failed to notice the raven perched outside the open window, staring at him intently. Suddenly, in a puff of smoke the raven disappeared, and from the darkest corner of the room suddenly emerged a figure clad entirely in black. It, much like Harry earlier, had a large hood that covered its entire head and hid its face and body-length robes. An ebony staff almost as tall as itself was held firmly in its right hand, strange green runes glowing faintly on it.

It walked over to the side of the bed, looking down at the sleeping young man. It paused for a moment, as if debating with itself. Then it moved its open left hand down towards Harry.

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**Author's notes: **Well, what do you think guys and gals?


	3. Breakfast at Grimmauld

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

* * *

**The Kingdom**

Breakfast at Grimmauld

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Hermione bolted upright in her bed, her breathing ragged and her skin damp from sweat. Her eyes were wide open, scanning the room in confusion for a moment as the thumping of her heart echoed in her ears. Finally, she realized that she had merely had a bad dream. A _really_ bad dream it seemed, but thankfully just a dream. Quickly closing her eyes to try and calm herself she also tried to remember what the dream was about. But she could not remember it. All she knew was that it had made her terribly afraid.

Soon enough, the adrenaline coursing through her veins began to wear off and her heartbeat slowed to a more restful pace. Her breathing evened out and she finally opened her eyes. Bright light filtered in through the lone window in the room, and a quick glance at the wall clock indicated that it was a quarter to ten in the morning.

Her gaze drifted over to the other bed in the room, currently occupied by a red-haired girl. Ginny Weasley slept much the same as her brothers did: like a rock. True enough, Hermione's distress and commotion seemed not to have woken her up as she lay all bundled up under her blankets and turned facing away from Hermione. Her mess of red hair the only thing visible against her green sheets.

Quietly, the brown-haired girl got out of bed and neatly made it up before walking across the room. They were living at Grimmauld Place currently, seeing as how the Burrow had been destroyed during the war. Harry had offered it to them as a temporary home while a new and improved Burrow was being built upon the ashes of the old one. Much work had been done to improve the place, with Harry recruiting some help from Winky, one of the house elves he was somewhat close to.

She felt a tinge of pain and sorrow as her thoughts turned to the one house elf who had been close to Harry. To all of them. Dobby. The little elf had done so much for them, and she wondered briefly whether house elves believed in any religion. She made it a mental note to look into the matter some time in the future.

Trying not to dwell to much on such thoughts, she marveled for the umpteenth time at how strange the place looked now that it was mostly clean and presentable. It did not feel so grimy and dark anymore, as if every corner hid some dark curse or creature, or that great evil had taken place there. There was still some work to be done, that was for sure, but for the most part Grimmauld Place no longer seemed like it had previously been the home of the House of Black.

"Good morning, Hermione dear," greeted a busy Molly Weasley as she labored about in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

"Morning Mrs. Weasley!" she replied in kind, a small smile forming.

The older woman smiled back in between her workings and asked, "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione's smile disappeared as she was reminded of her terrible dream. Well, reminded of the fact that she _had_ a terrible dream, not the dream itself. She had paused long enough for Mrs. Weasley to notice and the older woman had stopped working because of it.

"What's wrong dear?" Lines of worry began to appear on her face.

Hermione shook her head, "Oh, it's nothing really... just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about." The young woman proceeded to make herself some coffee under the watchful gaze of the elder Weasley.

Deciding not to pursue the matter, Mrs. Weasley resumed her cooking. "Well, dear. If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here for you."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley." She did not want to talk about it mostly because there was nothing to talk about. She could not remember the dream after all.

A growling from her stomach made her realize that she was quite hungry and she regarded the cooking food with interest. Already she could feel her mouth watering, and she quickly took a sip of her coffee as she sat down to wait. It was not long before the hot, freshly-cooked food was on the table. Mrs. Weasley walked to the open doorway of the kitchen and yelled, "Breakfast!"

Almost immediately afterwards, there was the sound of a loud thump and fast and heavy footsteps on wood. Within seconds, Ron Weasley was seated next to Hermione muttering a brief "good morning" as he proceeded to pile bacon, eggs, and ham onto his plate with vigor. About a minute or two later, a still-groggy Ginny walked in and sat down heavily opposite her brother. She too muttered a "good morning" as she started to put food on her plate.

Hermione resisted the urge to laugh as she ate, watching the two young Weasleys as they wolfed down their breakfast. Well, at least one of them was doing a lot of wolfing. It still amazed her how much food he ate and how fast he could eat it. She wondered how anyone could eat such portions and not be fat, which Ron was far from being. He was tall, much taller than she was, and rather muscular thanks to Quidditch training.

His messy red hair sort of reminder her of Harry, and then her thoughts turned to him. They had not heard from him in days, and that was beginning to worry Hermione. She had protested that he was leaving to go on his own for a while. If she knew Harry, and she did, this was not a good time to be alone in his state. As much as he was relieved that Voldemort was dead and that the war was finally over, she was sure that Harry was unsettled by all of it.

The war had defined his life. In fact, for the most part it _was_ his life, and now that it was over and done with he was sure to feel lost. Not to mention his whole guilt complex that made him feel remorseful and guilty for things that happened that were not really in his control. Such as the deaths of his friends during the war. Even the deaths of people he barely knew or did not know seemed to weigh heavily on him, as if he had failed them in some way. This was a delicate time for him, and she knew from experience he would try and push them away and cope with it himself - which of course he could not do. She was sure that was what was happening and as much as the others tried to reassure her he would be fine she knew he would not be. She _knew_.

He had asked for his space, and they had respected that and given it to him, but she thought that they had given him enough time and space. Now he had to return to the arms and warmth of his friends. He needed their support, and it would not do to have the Boy-Who-Lived to be depressed and possibly... suicidal? She balked at that. She would have to find him and soon.

A loud burp diverted her attention to the still eating Ron. He smiled sheepishly, a brief pause in his shoveling of food into his mouth, and looked apologetically at the women in the room as he chewed. Mrs. Weasley shook her head, though she was smiling. Ginny looked with open disgust at her brother. Hermione herself felt disgusted, though amused.

"Honestly, Ron. The food isn't going anywhere, you should slow down," she finally spoke up. Hermione wondered how many times she had said that to him over the years. Countless, no doubt. And just as before, he merely shrugged and continued to eat as if he had been starved for a week.

A quick trip to the top floor later and she found herself in one of the corner rooms that looked out onto the small street below. Wide open windows welcomed in the sunlight as the two owls perched onto a wooden coat rack set in the middle of the room. Their two cages resting underneath them. After a few days it was already beginning to smell like an owlery.

The snowy white owl was the larger of the two, her amber eyes watching intently as Hermione approached. She hooted in greeting, ruffling her feathers ever so slightly. The smaller owl was much more animated. Pigwidgeon, or Pig in short, launched himself into the air and began to circle the room excitedly as he hooted all the while. The more stoic of the two hooted in annoyance and for a split second seemed to roll her eyes.

"How are you Hedwig?" asked Hermione as she reached out and stroked her white feathers, eliciting two hoots from the owl. Two amber eyes seemed to look at her questioningly, and she smiled at that. Owls were very perceptive and very intelligent after all. Well, most of them were. She eyed Pig warily as she darted past her face, a little close for comfort.

"Do you think you could find Harry for me? Give him this letter?"

Hedwig hooted excitedly this time, her head bobbing as she extended a leg out to her.

Hermione smiled. She knew the owl would love the chance to reconnect with her master especially after having not seen him for some time now. Tying the letter onto the outstretched leg and making sure it was secure, she stroked Hedwig again before stepping back. In one fluid motion she extender her wings and leapt off the coat rack, flying out the window in no time.

"I really do hope he's alright," she sighed as she walked over to the open window and watched her fly away, becoming a speck in the distance and eventually disappearing from view.

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**Author's notes: **Another one in the books! Well, not literally.. hahaha see what I did there? Sigh. Sometimes I wonder about my sanity.


	4. Taken

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

* * *

**The Kingdom**

Taken

* * *

Harry slowly emerged from his dreams. He was vaguely aware of how the previously stiff bed was, well, no longer that stiff. He wondered if perhaps from all his lying down on it he had finally made it cave in and soften up. He laughed inwardly at that thought.

Shifting slightly, he raised his arms above his head and stretched.

"Ah good, you are awake," a voice spoke abruptly.

Utterly surprised, Harry's eyes fluttered open with alarm and he reached for his wand... only for his hand to grasp air. His wand was missing. Panicking slightly, he sat up on the bed and realized that he was no longer at the inn. He was in a room much smaller than even the room of the inn he had been staying at.

It was then that he finally noticed what kind of a room this was. Well, it was more of a cell than a room. A prison cell.

Confusion struck him like a lightning bolt from above. He was stunned, and for a while he could not get over the fact that he was indeed in a prison cell and not in his room at the inn. He slapped himself several times, but he was not waking up. Which either meant he was really deeply asleep or this was reality. And he really _really_ hoped it was the former.

His mind was spinning, thoughts jumbled as he tried to figure out how exactly he had gotten there.

"I was afraid you would sleep through the whole day," the voice continued on as if he had never stopped talking in the first place.

Harry's head whipped around, searching for the source of the words. He could hear the voice clearly, which meant he had to be close by. Warily, he reached out with his hands in case the person talking was indeed in the room but was maybe invisible. Nothing. His hands grasped at the air.

Questions swirled around in Harry's head, almost like hornets buzzing around their hive. Why was he here? Who had brought him here? Where _was_ here? Who was the one speaking to him? How long had he been here? What day was it?

He made sure his mental barriers were up and strong, and yet even then the voice still spoke as clearly as if he had his mind opened wide.

"You will have your questions answered soon enough," the tone was grim, a hint of sadness as well seemed to drip from his voice.

It made Harry very uneasy.

He spun and put his legs over the edge, feet flat on the floor. His gaze scanned once, twice, over the room. A streaming pillar of daylight flowed in from a small slit near the top of the wall to his right. If one were to stand at the cell door as a reference point, his bed was in the far right corner. In the far left corner was a small toilet, next to it mounted on the wall was a sink. Other than that there was nothing else in the cell.

Again his mind turned to how helpless he felt without his wand. He felt under his thin pillow again, willing it to be there where he had placed it before, but to no avail. No wand there.

Silently cursing the fact that he did not learn how to wandlessly cast magic, he went over to the cell door. It was made of reinforced steel, large rivets bolting everything together. There was a small hatch centered on the door at its very bottom, big enough to put a tray through - how he would be fed it seemed. Another hatch was at about head level, only slightly bigger than the food one. He pushed against each of the hatches, not that he could do much if he did manage to open them up, but he found them to be locked closed from the outside.

He walked back over to his bed and sat down heavily, letting out a big sigh of frustration. He closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. But failing miserably at it. Harry felt his frustration at life grow. Every time things finally seemed to be going for the better, when things were not so bad, something or another made it worse. It was almost as if the fates had it out for him. Whatever deities existed seemed to take great pleasure in causing him hardship and pain.

Of course, he could try and extend out his consciousness and figure out who else was in the prison, or at least how many people there were - both prisoners and guards. But that was risky. Too risky. It would make his mind vulnerable, and he was not about to have his mind attacked again and possibly violated. A brief flashback memory of one of the nights with Snape's teachings made him shudder a bit.

_Although_, he thought, _I could at least try and see if I have any neighbors..._

The farther out he expanded his consciousness, the more vulnerable he got. In only checking his immediate surroundings, he would still be able to adequately defend himself should the need arise. So ever so slowly and carefully he expanded out tendrils of consciousness in all directions. Inching outward delicately. As soon as his consciousness hit the wall though, he actually hit a wall. Of magic. And it prevented him from extending out any further.

Harry retreated back into his own mind, eyes opening in surprise. A twinge of fear enveloped him for a moment, but he squashed it just as soon as he had felt it. So this was not only a physical imprisonment, but a magical one as well. And that meant wizards and witches. Not surprising, considering the fact that they had captured him in the middle of Knockturn Alley. In hindsight perhaps not the best place to hide out to think in isolation, but it seemed to be a safe enough venture.

Did the old wizard at the inn have anything to do with it? Maybe. He was not sure, of course, but the way he had stared at him... Well, it did not matter. Whatever happened, however it happened, he was here. His only priority right now was to try and get out. But how?

"It is impossible," said the voice seemingly echoing all around him, "Nobody leaves this place without permission. And prisoners do not get permission. Ever."

"And what exactly is this place?" he growled aloud.

"You will have your answers soon," came the reply and then it was silent once more.

-**xxxxxx**-

Harry was not sure how long he had stayed sitting on his bed, back resting against the far well, head tilted and resting on the wall to his left. His eyes stared out at nothing in particular, though if one were to look at him he seemed to be looking at the steel door of the cell.

However long it was, it was long enough to have made his back stiff and his neck even stiffer. He felt as if the neck muscles on his right side were now permanently stretched longer and the ones on the left side of his neck were permanently shorter. Then he heard noises outside.

His head snapped up, eyes widening at first and then narrowing as he concentrated on the sound. Footsteps. Slowly walking down the hallway. A squeaking sound accompanied it, stopping every now and then. During those moments the squeaking stopped, there was the sound of metal sliding over metal somewhat roughly. Feeding time, Harry figured.

Sure enough, whoever was out there sounded as if he was directly in front of Harry's cell. The young wizard stood up, looking down at the hatch at the bottom of the door. It opened and a tray was slid into his room. Then it closed up again and the person who had brought the food continued on his task.

"HEY!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and rushing the few feet to the door.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The side of his fist slammed into the metal door. "HEY! WHERE AM I?" he yelled as loud as he could, unsure if he could be heard. Maybe the magical barriers surrounding the cell made it soundproof. He was not sure, but he had to try, though he was also not sure if whoever was out there would answer his cries anyways.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

"HELLO?" he cried out, "I think there's been some kind of mistake! I'm not supposed to be here!"

Giving up, he sagged against the door. Forehead resting on the cool metal as he banged on the door several more times, each time weaker than the last until his arm fell down to his side. Harry wondered how many other prisoners there were as he looked over to the tray and inspected it.

The tray was made of flimsy metal. On it were two bowls, one filled with noodle soup and the other some gooey substance that looked utterly revolting. A cup of water accompanied the duo of bowls. There was no silverware. Prevented the prisoners from having any real weapons, he supposed. Stomach growling, Harry hungrily lapped up the soup and drank half the water before turning a critical eye over to the goopy substance. It had a grayish and yet greenish hue and the consistency of... mashed potatoes.

"It is safe to eat, and actually extremely nutritious," the voice piped up encouragingly, "It is in your best interests to stay strong for the challenges ahead."

Harry frowned, still eyeing the goop. "Challenges?" he asked and waited for an answer. None came. With another sigh of frustration he scooped up some of the goop with his right index finger. Bringing it up to his face, he inspected it. At least it did not smell bad. In fact, it had no smell at all. Hesitantly, he put the little bit of the goop in his mouth. Relief flooded him. It tasted... bland. Taking the strange voice's advice, he ate it all up, licking his fingers clean afterwards and then downing the rest of the water in a few big gulps.

_That actually wasn't too bad_, he thought as he sat back down onto his bed.

A good amount of time had passed before the familiar squeaking sounded through the hall. This time, it was accompanied by a jolly tune being whistled by whoever it was that served the food. When he got to Harry's door, he opened the bottom slot for the tray. Harry was actually not sure if he was supposed to put the tray close to the hatch or if he was supposed to slide it over or not. After all he had not been briefed about the procedures here. He worried that he might get in trouble for not following procedure.

Those worries were eased, however, when he watched the tray slide on its own accord towards the hatch as if it were being sucked up. Then it slid shut and the man outside continued on his duties, his whistling echoing across.

So he was sure at least that sound could come into the cell, still not sure about sound going out. He was also not sure to what extent the magical barriers around the cell had been erected. What their purpose was. And how strong the caster had been. Though he surmised that in a prison the barriers would be quite powerful. It was then that he realized there was no light in the cell, only the moonlight that trickled in from the small, barred window providing a faint glow to the room.

He figured he must have spent another hour or two merely staring at the wall and wallowing in his pitiful inability to do anything about his current situation. He had felt helpless before, and at times hopeless, but the extent to which he was feeling both right now was far greater than any other previous time. Mostly because he knew nothing of his current situation. Absolutely nothing. And that terrified him. At least with Voldemort and his Death Eaters you knew what you were dealing with, who you were fighting, and why you fought.

Sleep eluded him for some time, but eventually his busy thoughts fatigued him enough for him to be pulled down under sleep's dark embrace.

-**xxxxxx**-

Hedwig hooted in alarm as well as frustration.

Before she left Grimmauld Place, she had sensed where her master was. It was part of the bond that connected them, though his master knew little about it. The snowy owl herself did not really think much on it. She merely accepted that there was some type of bond, some magical connection that allowed her to know where Harry Potter was at all times. Almost like a sixth sense.

She knew he was somewhere near Diagon Alley. But because she was so far away she could not pinpoint the location. The farther the destination of her searching, the vaguer the direction. Owls flew towards the vague directions given to them by the magic that was woven into their race, and as they got closer the directions became clearer and clearer until they reached their destination.

The problem, however, was that when Hermione had sent her off to give her letter to Harry, the owl had lost her master. She knew it was possible, and there were a number of reasons, but she did not know why Harry had disappeared from her 'sight'. It worried her greatly.

Still, she had flown towards Diagon Alley in the hopes that perhaps near where she had last sensed the young master she might find him again. So she circled Diagon Alley for thirty minutes, not giving up hope that maybe another pass around and the magic would show her to him. Still there was nothing.

Flying back to Grimmauld, she returned faster than she had left. Instead of heading for the open window, however, she went straight to the window where she knew Hermione was. She hooted loudly as she landed on the outside of the window, claws finding purchase on the strong bricks. Tapping her beak furiously on the glass, she waited.

* * *

**Author's notes: **Dun dun dun... stay tuned for more!


	5. No Answers

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

* * *

**The Kingdom**

No Answers

* * *

"Wake up, Harry."

The young man groaned and turned over in his bed. He wanted to sleep another hour.

"Harry, you must wake up."

_Persistent bugger, aren't you? _he thought groggily. _Fifteen more minutes!_

"No. They are coming for you. Wake up _now_!" said the voice loudly and with unrestrained irritation. "Wake up now, or _they _will wake you up. And trust me when I say you do not want that."

Heeding the words of the stranger, he forced himself to open his eyes and sit upright on the bed. The faint light from the window suggested the sun was up. No doubt it was morning already.

"Don't do or say anything stupid," advised the voice.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Thanks for that," he muttered.

He heard footsteps outside, echoing down the hall. The sound of metal boots landing on cement. There was definitely more than one person coming, and he wondered if they were all for him or if they were getting other prisoners as well.

"Where are they taking me?" he asked, seemingly talking to himself.

There was a pause, then a reply, "To have your questions answered."

Almost as if on cue, the footsteps stopped, and muffled voices could be heard right outside his door. Then the turning of a key and a faint glow from the door before a lock was disengaged with a loud clank. Next, it swung open inwardly, revealing the first people Harry had seen since he had arrived the day before.

They were clearly soldiers, of the medieval sort at least, because they wore steel armor. They seemed so out of place to the young wizard and again he wondered where on earth could he be. The soldiers were covered in dark steel from head to toe. Sheathed swords and daggers at their sides and full helmets covered their heads, hiding much of their face except their eyes. There were five of them.

The mask part of their helmet had multiple small openings to allow air in, especially around the nose area, though a thin piece of metal came down from the portion covering the forehead and covered the ridge of the nose up to the tip. On the shoulder and chest pieces of their armor was a symbol. A white star upon which was a green-colored tree with a multitude of leafless branches that snaked out every which way from the main trunk. He wondered what the emblem meant and what organization they belonged to.

As one the soldiers unsheathed their swords, making Harry gulp down hard. Fear gripped him in its icy hold.

"Prisoner, stand and _slowly_ exit the cell," said one of the armor-clad men. The edge in his voice told him that there would be consequences should he refuse or disobey. He turned to one of the other soldiers and told him to make some room, showing the side of his helmet where the same emblem could be found.

As he passed the soldier who had opened the door, the man muttered to him, "No sudden moves now, boy."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but a soldier shook his head and growled at him. "No talking." That made the young wizard close his mouth shut immediately.

The hallway was as nondescript as the cell. Colorless cement walls and flooring, exposed pipes, and several dozen silver steel doors on either side of it. A moment passed and the cell was closed and locked. Keys were pocketed and he was pushed, a bit roughly, forward. One soldier led the way. The rest fell in behind. All of them had swords drawn and Harry could almost feel their tips on his back. It would not be wise to lag behind the lead soldier, so he made sure to keep proper pace with him.

They reached the end of the hall and found themselves in another hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they had come from. They turned left and continued walking. As they walked they passed three other hallways to the left. Each with at least two dozen cells, Harry estimated. Were they all occupied?

Turning right at the end of the hallway, the small group stopped before a steel gate, thick bars on either side. Two guards stood watch on the other side. One of them fumbled with a set of keys for a moment, manipulating them a bit difficult while wearing armored gloves. The soldier leading their little procession expressed his impatience by tapping his steel boot on the cement as they waited. Finding the right one, the soldier finally unlocked the gate for them and seemingly breathed a sigh of relief as they passed.

Harry could feel they also passed through another magic barrier of some kind as they walked through the gate. There must be so many wards and barriers around. He figured they might even have traps ready too, lying dormant until triggered by some action. Probably the prison alarm.

They went through three more gates before they exited out onto a causeway. For the first time, Harry could see the outside, and he wasted no time as he started to look around. Even then he only caught brief glimpses of the surrounding area, and what he saw made his already slim hopes fade even more. He was definitely on some kind of island, because from what he saw the ocean stretched far out to the horizon on either side that he had looked at.

Inside once more, they went through a pair of gates. Four soldiers guarding the small area in between, the two farthest ones carrying large axes that were sharply honed. They looked at Harry with impassive eyes. That lack of emotion and the way they regarded him like they were readying to pounce at a moment's notice made Harry very nervous and uneasy, more so than he already was.

After another five minutes of walking, waiting at gates, and finally going through them to continue walking, they reached their destination.

They entered a big room that had a large desk off to the side with two burly-looking men in light armor flanking an old woman sitting behind it. She was looking through some papers as they approached, and she glanced up and began to study Harry with interest. She made a motion to one of the soldiers next to her and he stood. Chains dangling from his hands, he walked over and slapped them onto the young wizard's wrists and ankles. HArry grimaced slightly at the rough handling and shivered as the metal felt cold to his skin. Then the soldier returned to his seat and stared impassively at them.

"The carriage is outside," the woman finally said, after another moment of uncomfortable silence. At least to Harry it was uncomfortable.

The lead soldier inclined his head as he passed her and moved onward.

True to her word, there was a carriage waiting outside. A prisoner transport carriage. Large steel box with two thin, barred slits for windows mounted onto a set of iron wheels and all connected to and pulled by a team of two horses. Taking a quick glance around again, Harry confirmed that they were indeed on an island. Silently cursing as he was pushed into the back of the steel carriage, he sat down with a thud on the right-side bench. three others were in the box with him.

Two of them looked much older than Harry. The third seemed at or about the same age. A weathered old man with thick gray eyebrows and a bald head was on the left-side bench as far away from the door as he could get. A tough-looking man of asian descent sat next to the old man, across from Harry, tattoos of dragons and symbols that the young wizard did not recognize all over his body. Next to Harry was another asian, but he was much younger than the one across from Harry. He was the one that Harry guessed was more along his age.

Nobody said anything, and all the other occupants in the steel cage looked at the floor, none meeting his gaze. They did not appear to notice his arrival.

Harry felt like speaking, trying to figure out what was going on, but decided against it. He would be silent for now.

-**xxxxxx**-

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen. Even Arthur Weasley had come in, temporarily abandoning his duties as Deputy Minister of the new Ministry - a promotion long overdue. He looked as haggard and stressed as ever, but he kept his composure well.

Just then, Minerva McGonagall, now the headmistress of Hogwarts, strode into the room. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, eyes shining with worry as she moved to one of the remaining open seats.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Molly and Arthur, McGonagall, Neville, and Luna were all there. All Harry's closest surviving friends.

Numbness coursed through Hermione. She felt in shock. Again. So soon after the ordeals of the war were over, here was another problem. One that they knew little about. All they knew was that Harry was missing. According to Hedwig, at least, and she would know.

The young brunette had seen the owl frantically tapping at the window to the study, where she usually found herself these days. Lost in the many books that Grimmauld had to offer. She had rushed over eagerly since she thought Harry had replied. Imagine her confusion when she saw her same letter still tied to the owl's leg.

She was hooting incessantly, completely uncharacteristic of the usually stoic owl. Then, it dawned on her. Slowly. Like a boulder teetering on the edge, and then finally the realization hit her. The boulder fell.

Wasting no time, she had looked Hedwig straight in her amber eyes and asked, "Are you sure?"

Amber eyes looked at her incredulously, a look that said, 'do you think I'm making this up?' She hooted in affirmation.

Nodding ever so slowly, her heart began to race. Temples pounding as blood rushed through her system at a quickened pace, she had run to get the others. And now here they were, in the kitchen.

"Maybe," Ron spoke up suddenly, "Maybe he doesn't want to be found... you know, he did say he wanted to be alone for a while.."

Every pair of eyes glared at him and he sunk lower in his chair, muttering a "nevermind" under his breath.

McGonagall spoke up, "It takes a great amount of magic to block the owls' ability to find someone to deliver mail. The bond between a master and his or her owl is even stronger, and for Hedwig here not to find any trace of him is extremely suspicious and very alarming." She paused, "No offense to young mister Potter, but I doubt he had the magical skill to hide himself in such a manner."

Molly spoke up then, "So what happened?" Her eyes were wide, already a little teary. Hermione knew that she knew the answer to that, but typical of Mrs. Weasley she refused to believe such dangers happened to her children. And she did consider Harry to be one of her own.

"He has been taken," Arthur said. "He was abducted yesterday."

Silence ensued.

"You _knew_?" asked Ginny this time with an accusatory tone.

Arthur nodded, breathing out a heavy sigh. All eyes were now watching him.

"In the aftermath of it all, well... the remaining Ministry officials, we get together at one point and... upon my suggestion, we had Harry's every movements followed. Several tracking charms placed on him. We knew that... he might be in a fragile state," he explained, "And with him being now perhaps the most popular wizard in Britain and perhaps even all of Europe, it was imperative that we keep an eye out for him. For his own sake. You know how he was when Sirius was killed, and now that Remus and Tonks... and many others... well, you understand."

Hermione had been following Mrs. Weasley in that they had both been in denial. She knew that something bad had happened to Harry, a gut feeling confirmed it, but she still had not accepted that until now. Now it was real. It was fact.

"Why didn't you tell us Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley spoke first, bewildered. "You should've told us immediately!"

Again there was a heavy sigh from the Deputy Minister. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "We thought that we could find him before anyone noticed. But we failed to find him."

"What happened, Arthur? Tell us everything you know. We can help find him." The headmistress' eyes had switched from full of worry to a hard and simmering anger. The tone in her voice held an edge.

Arthur looked at her, and told them what he knew. "He had gone to stay at the Horned Frog Inn over in Knockturn Alley" - there was a sharp intake of breath from the room coming from Hermione - "Of course, we were concerned, but with our people watching him 24/7 we felt there was no need to directly interrupt him. The reports indicated he was alone the whole time he was there and he stayed mostly to his room. Then, last night was when our aurors realized there was something wrong. He had not left his room all day. So they checked the room and... he was gone. A bag full of sandwiches and a spare set of clothes were left behind... along with his wand."

An uneasy feeling settled in Hermione's stomach. _He left his wand...?_ she thought, her mind panicking. He was practically defenseless without it. Pushing away unsavory thoughts of what could possibly be happening to him, she began to focus on trying to get him back. But how? So many other questions flitted through her head, and so far she had no answers.

"We have no idea who took him, when exactly he was taken, and where he is now. We have a team scouring the Inn for any clues, but I haven't heard anything from them yet," and he said no more after that. Looking just as troubled as the rest of them.

Hermione stared down at the surface of the wooden table, her eyes unconsciously tracing the many lines that grained the wood. _Where are you Harry?_

-**xxxxxx**-

Several hundred miles away, Harry Potter was wondering much the same thing. The carriage had ground to a halt after about a ten minute ride. The young asian teen next to Harry finally spoke, a language he did not understand. The tone of whatever he was saying, however, conveyed everything Harry needed to know. He was afraid. Clearly it was directed at the rather intimidating-looking man before him. Sure enough, the man replied in the same language, a rough and steady voice. It seemed to calm the youth somewhat.

Harry dared a whisper, "Do you know what's happening? Why we're here?" He was not sure if the man would understand, but he had to try.

Cold dark eyes looked at him. He could tell that he was being studied, judged. Uneasily, he shifted around a little under the man's gaze. Then he spoke, "I don't know."

Harry had no chance to respond as the back doors were unlocked and were flung open. They were told to get out, and Harry was the first. His shoes smacked onto smooth stone slabs laid down on the ground. His gaze drifted to the floor, then back up. And then he saw it.

Towering over them, enormously, was what to Harry looked like a stadium of some kind. Almost Coliseum-like, except the architecture was different. They approached a massive gate, a detail of a dozen guards standing watch. They looked at the new arrivals with stony gazes, hands on their weapons.

Curious, since they were all chained up. Not like they would be able to do anything. _But perhaps some have tried_, Harry thought.

The gates did not open, however, because that was not how they were entering. There was a side door, made of thick, reinforced wood and steel, and it swung heavily, but silently over its well-oiled hinges. Evidence of great care and upkeep for the place.

They were led through several hallways, and down sets of stairs every now and then. Deep into the bowels of whatever this place was. Their surroundings got dirtier and grimier as they continued, until eventually they stopped at another gate.

Once it was opened, they were shoved inside, the gate quickly closing behind them. Their armed escort stayed on the other side, eyes watching them.

Harry turned away from them and looked around. They were in a sizeable room, several torches were burning. There were pieces of worn and used armor laying about, though no weapons were to be found. On the ceiling, right in the middle of the room, was an opening through which light poured in. He stepped towards and, underneath the opening, looked up. An iron grate was a few feet above the actual opening - it was a shaft. For light or for something else he was not sure.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked, trying to get that blasted voice to answer, but there was none.

He walked over to the gate, "What is this place?" he demanded of them, but they said nothing either. He asked them several more times before finally giving up. His companions were all quiet, as if they did not care. The two asians were watching him closely, while the bald man was staring off to the side.

Harry followed his gaze and saw that there was a set of doors there. He walked over to them briskly and pushed and pulled. Locked. He kicked it in frustration.

"Save your energy," the voice piped up finally, "You will need it."

"What are you talking about?" he snarled, "What is this place? I thought you said my questions would be answered!"

His three companions were watching him now with wary eyes. He noticed that the bald man had an amused expression while the tattooed asian regarded him with Harry thought was a mixture of wariness and... pity. It dawned on him that they might not be able to hear the voice, and so he had sounded as if he were talking to either himself or to some ghost that only he could see. They thought he was crazy.

"I was mistaken... things have moved differently than I expected... it appears he wants to see you in action first," said the voice with a hint of dismay.

_He? Who's he? _Harry was getting more and more frustrated. _And what do you mean by action? What's going on here?_

Just then, the sound of clinking metal reverberated throughout the room. It stopped. The big doors then swung open, slowly. Standing in the doorway was a thin, old man with wisps of gray hair on his head and a short white beard. A thick white mustache hung over his thick lips, beneath a long, crooked nose that looked to have been broken and not properly set. The man's face seemed to have more scars than wrinkles, and he had dark eyes that looked at them without emotion. Thick, bushy white eyebrows hung like clouds over them as his gaze jumped from one prisoner to the other.

He smiled, revealing many missing teeth, and he waved a hand beckoning them forward. His voice was slightly hoarse but he spoke loudly.

"If you want to live, listen closely to what I have to say. I will not be repeating anything."

* * *

**Author's notes: **Well now how do ya like that, eh?


	6. The Arena

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

* * *

**The Kingdom**

The Arena

* * *

"I'd like to personally welcome you poor sacks of meat to the Arena of Champions, also known as The Arena for short," continued the old man as he beckoned them to follow him into the next room. "I do hope you enjoy your stay here... and since I am a fool, it is therefore a fool's hope that you get from me!" he cracked up at that.

The four of them were silent.

Calming himself, the old man said, "Well lads, you are here most unfortunately in the Arena. Which means you will be fighting. And since you will be fighting, you will need weapons. As you can see before you this room is filled to the brim with them. Find yourself a good weapon and perhaps some armor to boot in case you don't like the idea of getting cut, stabbed, or broken easily."

All four began to wander around the room, looking at the many different piles of armors and weapons. The varieties were mind-boggling. They could have outfitted a small army with the armaments that they had there.

Harry was lost in his thoughts for a while as he walked amongst the piles of war equipment. He still could not believe this was happening. That he was in some sort of arena, almost as if he had traveled back in time to the ancient Roman era of gladiator battles. Reaching over one hand to his other arm he pinched himself. Hard. He winced at the pain but the result he was hoping for did not happen. He did not wake up because he was already awake. And this was very much real.

Still shaking his head in disbelief and trying to avoid thoughts of despair, he began to focus on finding weapons and armor. If this really was true and real he needed to make sure he survived the upcoming battle. It would not do to die here, especially since he had plans of escaping. He did not know how, but he knew he would do it.

Swords, spears, maces and even bows of all kinds could be found along with staves and wands too, which Harry looked over immediately. To his surprise, he actually found a staff that seemed to resonate with him. It was a decent-looking staff as well, made of some kind of smooth, dark wood that was gnarled at the top where it was clutching a nice gem - a green emerald in fact. Runes were carved all along the staff. Though he could not read it and he had never used staves before, it felt right in his hands so he decided to keep it.

Looking around, he tried to find some armor that was light enough for him to move around freely in but sturdy enough to keep him safe from anything that came his way. It took him a while but he found a hardened leather jacket with some chainmail woven into the chest area, upper back and the upper arms ending just above his elbow. It was a bit loose on him, but a quick spell he remembered Hermione teaching him one day to alter clothing seemed to work well enough.

That also allowed him to test the staff out. The magic flowed nicely and the spell was cast without any problems, which was a good sign. He then strapped on some hardened leather boots that he also altered with his magic. Next he decided to take a dagger the size of his forearm for any close-quarters battles. Although he would have preferred a sword since he has used a sword before - the Sword of Gryffindor - he could not use both a long sword and a staff. Or at least he thought he could not.

He found a belt with a hilt that could fit the dagger nicely and he also put on some hardened leather trousers as well. Confident that he had everything he might need to survive, he returned to the front of the room where the old man waited for them all to finish choosing their equipment.

"Best make sure you have what you need, because once you go out there you'll be leaving either alive... or as a corpse. And your choices in this room will impact which path you choose." The old man looked at each one of them for several seconds each with a steady and serious gaze. "Look at each other. You have a choice either to fight as a team, or to fight alone. But know this, you will be fighting other teams out there. As well as beasts of the savage and dangerous kind. It would be wise to have others to watch your back."

Harry looked at the other three, and they in turn did the same.

"If you do not wish to fight together, then tell me now. For you must enter separately. Also know that if you fight together, and if all of you survive the fighting, you shall leave with your lives. Choose wisely." He smirked. Turning around, he walked to the other end of the room where there was another set of heavy, wooden doors. "Once you have made your decision, come over here," he said as he walked away.

Harry turned again to look at the other three.

The tattooed Asian man had two swords strapped to his back and another pair of swords at either hip. He had chosen very little armor, some greaves, boots, and armguards. He took one look at each of them, shook his head, and spat on the ground before storming off towards the old man with fists clenched.

"Well, I guess he wants to die," mumbled Harry.

The bald man chuckled, "No, he thinks he has a better chance on his own than with us. He thinks we would drag him down. Two young boys and an old man..."

Harry had not thought about it that way. He looked at the other two again, unsure of himself all of a sudden.

"It is also because he is from a mountain tribe. They are fiercely independent and tremendous warriors," the young Asian boy spoke up.

"And you, where are you from?" asked the bald man.

The young boy shuffled his feet a bit and looked down as he answered, "I'm a monk. Well... I was training to be one at least, before they took me. You can call me Kao."

Harry studied him closely. He also had a shaved head and he chose to wear no armor either though he did wear silk robes that Harry vaguely remembered seeing on Far Eastern monks. Closer inspection revealed the robes had symbols, almost like runes sewn into them. The boy had chosen a staff as his weapon as well as a dagger, though smaller in comparison to the one Harry had chosen.

The bald man had heavy armor on, and a helmet tucked under his right arm. One dagger hung at his right hip and on his left was a short sword. Strapped across his back was a large broadsword, and strapped onto his left arm was a scratched-up kite shield.

At first Harry was wondering how the old man would fight with such heavy equipment, but he noticed that he stood completely still. Not an ounce of strain could be seen in his stance, suggesting that he was much stronger than he looked.

"And you?" asked Harry, looking at the older man, who grinned slightly.

"I am Sir Gregor, Knight of the White Flame, Captain of the Anderfen Guard. I am from the Kingdom of Ariss, a small magical kingdom in Northern Europe." As he spoke he seemed to stand a little straighter, which Harry did not think was possible.

"So.." the young Asian spoke "What happens now?"

"We team up?" Harry decided to throw the suggestion out there. He had no idea what he was facing, and it would be nice as the old man had said earlier to have someone watching his back.

"Agreed," said Sir Gregor instantly, "I would be shamed if I did not help you two fight, given how young you are."

Harry mentally thanked him, though he did tell him that he was not as helpless as he looked.

"Oh, I know Harry Potter, known as the Chosen One. All Europe knows of you. I am much surprised to see you here in this wretched place," he replied.

"The Chosen One?" asked Kao, confused.

Harry gave him a pained look, "Long story."

"Any time now!" yelled the old man from across the room, startling Harry.

Sir Gregor nodded to each of them, "Best get going and get this over with. I am not as skilled at magic as I would like to be, but seeing as how you two are that shouldn't be a problem. I can handle any close-quarters engagements. The rest, I leave to you."

Together, they walked up to the old man and as they approached they finally noticed that the tattooed Asian warrior was already gone.

"Your friend decided to move along on his own," said the old man with a snicker, "Pity. Now I assume you three will be fighting together?"

They all nodded.

"Good, good. One of you might survive!"

A tingle went down Harry's spine as the old man said that and the doors suddenly opened.

"Walk towards the end of the tunnel. They are already waiting for you. Oh, and one last thing - don't even think about escaping. You will surely die then."

They stepped through the doorway and into the tunnel.

-**xxxxxx**-

The ground was shaking as they neared the end. A barred metal gate stood in their way. Two big soldiers stood guard and growled as they neared, their faces hidden behind full-mask helmets. The masks gave them an intimidating look as angry and ominous faces were molded into each helmet faceplate. In each hand of one soldier were two big double-headed axes. The other had an enormous hammer with spikes at the end.

The gate opened by itself and the guards stood by, their bodies tense as the three walked between them and through the gate, which then closed as they entered the holding cell. The noise was very loud now, and Harry realized it was the sound of people cheering, clapping, stomping, and generally having a good time. The audience, it seemed.

His heart began to pump faster and there was a thumping at his temples from the increased blood flow. He looked nervously at the other two, but they appeared as calm and collected as could be. Though there was a hint of fear in the eyes of Kao. Sir Gregor looked at neither of them and already had his helmet on.

Ahead of them and only a few feet away was a big iron and wooden gate. It was as wide as the entire cell and as tall, basically that gate acted as the fourth wall of the cell.

Harry did not know how long they waited. It seemed like ages for him. Then the gate shuddered, dust falling down from the ceiling, and began to open upwards. Slowly it went up, and as it did the crowd began to roar even louder. They must have been told that it was about to start.

Sir Gregor began to walk forward as soon as the gate was high enough for him to pass. Harry and Kao followed close after him, with Harry gripping his staff tighter with each step.

Beyond the gate was another tunnel, but this one sloped upwards and at the end of which was a blinding light. Sunlight.

Soon enough they emerged from the tunnel and momentarily blinded Harry could not see where they were, though he knew it already. The noise of the crowd was even more deafening now, and it was starting to make his ears hurt.

"Use a spell to quiet your ears," the voice murmured in his mind, returning.

Harry quickly whispered a spell under his breath and touched the staff to his head. The terribly loud noise began to fade and eventually turned into a dull background roar. He mentally thanked the voice for the suggestion while simultaneously mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that sooner.

His eyes finally adjusting to the brightness, Harry looked around and his jaw hung open for a while as he took in the awe-inspiring sight of a packed coliseum. There were thousands of people there. He wondered who they were and who was running the whole show. The fighting area itself was a large field of sand. Much like the Roman coliseum days. There were five other groups. Two groups consisted of two people, one had three people, and the other two were alone. One of the individual ones was the tattooed Asian man who somehow had appeared on the opposite end of the Arena. He already had his two swords in each hand, crouched low and ready.

Suddenly, the crowd's noise died down - even for Harry it was noticeable because the background din disappeared for a moment.

A loud booming voice reverberated throughout the Arena, magically amplified it seemed because even Harry's spell did not diminish it.

"LET US BEGIN! FIGHT!" the voice commanded.

The crowd erupted into cheers instantaneously as sure enough spells began to fly.

"Stay close!" yelled Sir Gregor as he unsheathed his broadsword and began to run left towards the other individual fighter. Kao was already a step behind him while Harry took another moment to react before following him.

Explosions sounded in the distance and Harry could see the group of two and three fighting each other. The tattooed Asian was running towards them, spells flying from his hands as he dodged a few sent his way, swords flashing around.

The other individual fighter also had heavy armor, though he chose a pole-axe as his weapon. He cast several nasty-looking spells at them as he too ran towards them without fear even though he was outnumbered.

Kao was very nimble and agile on his feet, dodging the spells sent his way with ease. Sir Gregor didn't even bother to dodge, either deflecting or blocking with spells of his own or letting them land on his shield, which Harry realized he had enchanted with some wards and spells. He kicked himself again mentally for not doing that to his own armor.

Harry launched a few spells back at the fighter, who even though he had heavy armor, sprung with amazing agility himself out of harm's way. Harry sent magical vines shooting towards him, but before they could wrap around him a wall of fire erupted and burned away the vines. Other spells were dodged or deflected.

Kao was concentrating hard on one particular spell, his arms and staff moving quickly.

Suddenly, the sand beneath the fighter took hold of his feet and he began to sink, just as Sir Gregor got to him first. The man yelled out in surprise before thrusting his pole-axe towards the knight, who deflected the blow off his shield.

A desperate attempt to free himself managed to work and the fighter was launched into the air and away about twenty feet. Sir Gregor had just swung to strike at him and hit only air, missing cleaving the fighter in half by a hair's breadth. With only a slight moment to gather himself the fighter stood and began to fire curses their way again.

Harry ducked and fell to his knees before erecting a barrier in front of him just as another curse meant for him slammed into it with a small red explosion erupting. Counter-firing he sent a few hexes and what little battle spells he knew.

Kao began to concentrate again, making quick motions, as he stood behind Harry and his barrier.

Sir Gregor got to the fighter and they began to duke it out. Spells flew every now and then, barely missing their targets by mere inches.

A quick glance across the field and Harry noticed the group of two were down and there was only the tattooed Asian and one last member of the group of three. They were having a rather intense battle with sparks, explosions, and lights flashing every which way.

"AHHH!"

Harry snapped back to the duel and Sir Gregor had managed to land a blow on the fighter, who staggered back. But just as he did he also snapped back with his pole-axe, landing a glancing blow but enough to cut, on Sir Gregor. They each backed away for a moment, which was what Kao was waiting for.

Suddenly, two pillars of sand erupted from the ground and formed into fists. The fighter sent curses at the other one, which was in front of him, but he did not notice the one behind him. The one before him crumbled down into the ground but the one behind him managed to slam into his back, tossing him towards Sir Gregor and sending his pole-axe flying out of his hands. He tumbled right by Sir Gregor and stopped a little past him as Harry and Kao ran towards him.

The fighter groaned but was slowly getting to his feet again. Sir Gregor raised his sword.

"Wait!" cried Harry.

Sir Gregor hesitated. And that was the extra time the fighter needed, because as he got onto one knee he suddenly flung himself at the knight. They fell to the ground in a heap, Sir Gregor's broadsword embedding itself into the sand a few feet away.

Kao was unsure of what to do as they fought each other on the ground with their fists. No more magic was involved, as each man wanted to kill the other with their bear hands.

"What do we do?" asked Kao, both hands on his staff.

Harry did not know either.

But then he noticed something moving in the corner of his eye and looked across the field. The tattooed Asian warrior was running full speed at them. Both swords bloodied and he looked a little cut up and bruised but otherwise fine.

"Kao, slow him down!" yelled Harry, "I'll help Sir Gregor."

The young monk did not have to be told twice as he concentrated and several walls of sand erupted from the ground between them and the tattooed warrior. The walls kept growing up to fifteen feet high and were wide enough across to give them enough time if he decided to go around them. Too bad he did not though as he simply began to blast his way through them. But that was all the time Harry needed as he got to the two who were still fighting on the ground.

When he found the opening, he sent a stunner spell point-blank at the fighter who went flying several feet away to end up motionless on the ground.

"About damned time!" said Sir Gregor through gritted teeth. "Were you enjoying the show?"

"Sorry," replied the young wizard.

"No matter," he said as he walked over to the fighter, "They have to be killed, Harry. Those are the Arena rules. Kill or be killed." Taking out his knife he cut the man's throat. Blood spurted out and the men gurgled blood as he died. Wiping the blade clean on the fallen warrior, he sheathed the knife and walked back towards Harry who looked appalled.

An explosion close by knocked them to their senses as they turned around. Kao ran towards them and pointed towards the last wall, which was broken through already. The warrior stood, breathing heavily, clumps of sand all around him. Debris from the part of the sand wall he blew up. Fresh blood dripped from the edges of his swords and he was covered with a little bit of it as well. He gave them a sinister smirk, eyes flashing.

"ENOUGH!" the voice rang out again, silencing the crowd once more. "THIS ROUND HAS ENDED!"

The ground shifted underneath them, unsteadying them and causing them to stumble around. Then the ground beneath them shot up into the air forming a plateau. One plateau for their group and another for the lone warrior. They rose several dozen feet into the air before stopping. Then with another rumbling the plateaus of sand began to move towards one end of the Arena. They neared a large viewing balcony with many green banners and a detachment of soldiers stationed all around it. The banners had the insignia Harry previously saw on the other soldiers, on all the soldiers they have seen thus far actually. The white star upon which was a green tree.

The plateaus came to a halt in front of the balcony, and there was an intense silence all around. The crowd was extremely well behaved. Harry wondered if they were real, or if they were an illusion created by this man who seemed to control the whole event.

Sitting on a precisely-cut, beautiful marble throne was a man who looked to be in his early fifties, with long, curly dark gray hair that went to his shoulders and a thick gray and white beard that went to his belly. A matching mustache formed an arch over his magnificent beard. He had on his head a handsome jewel-encrusted crown of gold that shone in the sunlight, the gems twinkling adding to the sparkle. He wore well-made robes, expensive-looking robes actually. Most of all, he had an aura of not only command about him... but power.

Yes. Harry could sense the immense power this man held, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up slightly. The raw power emanating from this man was frightening. He looked at the others, wondering if they felt it too, but if they did they did not outwardly show it. Turning his attention back to the mysterious man he waited to hear what he had to say. He did not wait long.

"Welcome and congratulations warriors!" he began, his voice solid and commanding. Booming even though they were this close. "You have passed the first round of The Arena of Champions. The first test. You should be proud of yourselves." He looked at each of them with his blue eyes and wide smile plastered onto his face. "With that you get a reprieve for a while. But do not forget! You have more fighting ahead of you. Freedom also lies ahead of you."

They each listened more closely after that statement.

"Ah, yes. I guess they forgot to mention that tidbit. Funny how they seem to do that a lot nowadays..." he trailed off for a moment before continuing, "You must win your freedom from my tournament by completing five rounds. Mind you, _very_ few have completed the five rounds. But _perhaps _you will be one of the lucky ones." His eyes rested on Harry for a moment, who had to look away when their eyes met. There was something about his gaze that made it seem like he could see right through you, in to your very soul. It was a strong gaze as well, one that could seemingly swallow him whole if he stared long enough, and Harry did not like that one bit.

"In any case, you will have two days to rest. Then you will move on to... _bigger_ and _better_ things. Oh yes, no doubt about that." He laughed. It was a cold laugh, one that could make men shiver. "Now off with you! The next group begins soon!" he laughed again.

The plateaus of sand moved apart to opposite ends of the Arena, taking them back to where they had originally entered. They stopped and began to shrink back into the ground and before long Harry, Kao, and Sir Gregor were back underground walking through a different set of tunnels.

They had to relinquish their weapons, albeit with some apprehension and hesitation. They were told that they would get them back again once they returned for round two. They were placed back in chains and a few minutes later were back in the metal carriage headed back to the prison.

"Well, that was unexpected," said Sir Gregor.

"What was?" Harry asked him.

"That we lived. And won." He paused, "At least, the 'first' round that is."

Harry looked down, "Yeah." He did not know what else to say. There was still a lot of adrenaline in his system, and he was still trying to process what had happened. Yes, they had survived. But why were they chosen? How were they chosen? And who was the man who was running the whole show? What was this tournament he spoke of? So many questions swirled in his head that it began to hurt after a while.

Kao leaned his head back and rested it against the wall and stated rather simply, "I hate the Arena."

* * *

**Author's notes: **What do you think? :)


	7. A Visitor in the Night

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfic! I do not own the Potterverse. JK Rowling does!

* * *

**The Kingdom**

A Visitor in the Night

* * *

They were returned to their cells promptly and without much fuss, partly because they were tired and partly because they did not know what to do to escape. Each one of them briefly considered the notion for a moment, but quickly squashed the thought. There were too many unknowns and risks to attempt such a blind escape. They all knew that. While escaping their predicament was definitely a priority, staying alive was even more so.

Harry found himself sitting in his cell and staring at the stone wall across from him. His mind was still processing what had recently occurred. The Arena. The fighting. Surviving. And the old man who seemed to be in charge of the whole ordeal. He wondered who he was and what he wanted all this fighting for. Sure, he figured there was the desire to be entertained, but there had to be some other motivation for it. Some other reason why they would get such skilled warriors - though he did not really think of himself as one - to bring them together merely to fight to the death.

_Unless, of course, the old man is a complete lunatic, _he thought with grim amusement._  
_

Yet again Harry found himself wondering why he was embroiled in such a terrible situation. Why was it that it was always him that the fates or the gods or whatever supernatural forces exist picked on? And having come so far as defeating the latest Dark Lord, Harry thought that he might find a measure of peace. A piece of normalcy that he might find comfort in. Of course it was not meant to be as he was stuck here in some prison in the middle of nowhere, forced into gladiatorial fighting for reasons he did not know.

Hours passed, or perhaps it was only minutes, Harry couldn't really tell the passage of time without a watch or a clock. He realized his back was starting to hurt, having been sitting up on his bed with his back to the wall for what seemed a while. He lay down and the pain alleviated somewhat, though the mattress was not exactly comfortable either.

Again, he did not know how long he lay there, but eventually he heard the echoing of heavy footsteps outside. Metal upon stone. They stopped right outside his door and there was the sound of jingling keys and his door being unlocked.

The young wizard sat up, his emerald eyes looking at the now open doorway with a mixture of curiosity and fear. As much as he hated to admit it, he was afraid. _If only they had allowed me to keep my staff... _Wishful thinking. A soldier walked in, his masked helmet on. The dark holes through which the man could see aimed directly at Harry.

"Up, prisoner." The man's voice had no edge to it, the phrase said with a bored and rather-be-somewhere-else tone to it.

Harry stood warily. "What is it?"

"All prisoners are allowed to bathe after fighting, given they survive of course. It is your turn. Now move."

The young man with the lightning scar did not have to be told twice. A bath sounded really wonderful at the moment.

A few minutes and several winding passages later, Harry relaxed in the tub, letting the warm and soapy water soak him. He slid further down so that only his head and upper neck remained above the water, the back of his head resting on the edge of the tub. His aching muscles felt soothed and his entire body relaxed. For a while at least he did not feel as if he were a prisoner.

He had been surprised at how nice the baths were, and that a prisoner like himself would be able to use them.

He had been given thirty minutes to bathe and clothe himself, a new set of garments waited for him on a bench next to the door. Harry started to think about the others back in Britain. He wondered if they were looking for them, if they even knew he was gone. It had been several days now, but they probably would not have noticed just yet. He had wanted to be alone after all and so they might have thought to let him have his peace for a while.

He found himself not being upset at that notion. After all that has happened, he did not want to involve them in yet another situation where the lives of those he cared about would be at risk. He hoped that somewhere out there they were going on with their lives, oblivious to the fact that Harry was seemingly worlds away.

"Don't come looking for me," he whispered as his mind drifted off into a slumber.

-**xxxxxx**-

Arthur Weasley slammed his fist on the table.

"This is unacceptable!" he yelled, his eyes sweeping across the room at the special task force in charge of locating and retrieving the young Mr. Potter.

The frustration had been building in him for quite some time ever since Harry's disappearance. It was still kept top secret, as most of the Wizarding world was oblivious to the fact that one of their heroes was missing. Abducted under the very nose of Ministry personnel to boot, it was potentially a big embarrassment not to mention a tragedy since the country was only beginning to pull itself together and rebuild. If something were to befall Harry, there would be much despair.

Yet ever since his disappearance, they had come up with nothing. There was simply no trace of him or the abductor.

There were no tell-tale signs of an apparition being made, no signs of a struggle or of anyone breaking in. It seemed as if Harry might have thought his abductor to be a friend and was simply caught unawares. But the manager of the Horned Frog Inn had said, truthfully, that Harry had gone out and returned alone. That he had always been alone every time he saw him.

They had checked the room for any clues. The window was slightly cracked open, but it was barely big enough for anyone to fit through. Of course, magic could have been used and they checked for that. Indeed, there was a faint trace of magic in the room, but it was too weak to do anything with other than to know that the signature of the magic did not match Harry's.

"Sir," spoke one of the veteran aurors who had survived through the war, "What do we do now? We've... we've searched every inch of that Inn. We've combed Knockturn and Diagon Alleys with nary a trace of the boy..."

Arthur sighed, sitting back down in his chair with a loud thump as he landed hard. He paid no attention to the protests of his bum at the rough landing. "We keep searching."

"But where?" asked another auror, a woman in her late forties.

Arthur had no answer.

-**xxxxxx**-

THUD. THUD. THUD.

A heavy knocking on the thick wooden door echoed through the bathroom, waking Harry. "You have 2 minutes to get ready and out of there, prisoner. Otherwise, we'll come in and assist you."

Harry understood what that meant and immediately got out of the bath, the stone floor feeling very cool against his wet, warm skin. His muscles seemed to protest a little, having been too relaxed a mere second ago, but he forced himself to stand and towel off quickly.

They were unlocking the door when he put on his trousers at least. The door swung open and a soldier stood in the doorway. He said nothing and he let Harry finish dressing himself in silence.

He was brought back to his cell and locked up. Harry began to pace the room a little, feeling a bit energized and hungry as well. Thankfully, their meals were being served as he heard the now familiar sound of the food cart moving through the halls. The rest of the day passed without anything interesting happening. The young wizard passed the time by doing a workout, which he decided on doing out of pure boredom.

The following day was pretty much the same, except without the bathing of course. He was served his meals and he passed the time by doing a workout and, as the day wore on, he began to recall as much spells as he could that would be useful in combat. This being the second day after all, he would have to fight the following day and he wanted to make sure he would survive this stage as well.

Footsteps outside interrupted his thoughts. It was unusual for so many soldiers to be out there this late at night. For the past few nights as part of their patrols the soldiers who guarded the prison would walk the halls either alone or with a partner. From what Harry could tell, there were at least four soldiers out there. He was in the process of guessing what they were up to when the door to his cell was unlocked.

"Prisoner. Come with us," said one of the soldiers.

"Isn't it late for a bath? My name's Harry, by the way." he said as he walked through the doorway.

"This isn't a bath trip. Now keep quiet, prisoner." He was pushed a little roughly forward to emphasize the point, and the young wizard kept his mouth shut after that. Flanked all around by soldiers, he wondered what this was for if it was not a bath trip.

They seemed to be headed for the entrance to the prison, if Harry's memory served him right. A thought struck him then that maybe he was being taken to start the second stage already. He swallowed hard and felt fear grip him as they continued to walk.

A familiar voice suddenly spoke into his mind, "Relax, Harry Potter. You will be undergoing the second stage tomorrow as planned. This is merely a visit by someone of... great importance."

_A visit? Who is visiting me here? Someone of importance... what does that mean? _Harry tried to ask, but no reply ever came. The voice remained silent.

He at least felt some of his fear leave him at the revalation, but he did not know how trustworthy the voice was. While it was true that it had helped him and explained to him several things already, having not lied to him yet, the voice had not identified himself to Harry and that made him suspicious of it. All he knew was that whoever was speaking to him through some kind of mental magic was a male and that he was powerful or skilled enough, or perhaps both, to circumvent the barriers that Harry had discovered in the prison.

He was taken to a holding cell near the entrance to the prison. It was roughly double the size of his own cell, with a table and two chairs on opposite ends. He was brought to one end of it and roughly placed into a chair by two soldiers on either side of him. The other two stood a few feet behind. All of them had their backs stiff, bodies tense.

A moment later, a door that was on the other side of the room opened and someone entered.

It was a young woman.

Harry's eyes widened ever so slightly, his pupils dilating to better take the sight of her in.

She was very beautiful, with wavy, fiery red hair that fell almost to her waist. She seemed almost as tall as Harry, perhaps an inch or two shorter. Her body was very slim, very sexy. She wore a simple but elegant green dress that went to her ankles and that fit her curves very well, showing off her lovely set of breasts by showing a little cleavage thanks to the dress being cut a little low there.

She stopped right next to the chair opposite him and Harry looked into her eyes. Her wonderful blue eyes.

Harry realized he hadn't been breathing properly, her beauty literally having taken his breath away. He coughed slightly and concentrated on breathing normally. Doing this made him look away, and as he returned his gaze to her he noticed that she was still looking at him intently. There was a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth, as if she was about to smile but then thought better of it.

"Leave us." Her voice was melodic and yet firm. She exhibited an air of confidence and command that Harry finally noticed, which made him all the more curious to find out who this was.

"But, my Lady..." one of the soldiers began to say but he stopped as her piercing blue eyes snapped to him with a hint of anger.

"Leave." Her voice had an edge to it the second time she told them that. Her tone implying serious consequences should they disobey.

They did not. The soldiers all bowed their heads, turned around, and left through the door that they had entered. This left Harry all alone with the young woman, who looked to be around her mid to late twenties.

He found that she was looking at him intently again, studying him almost. It made him feel very uncomfortable and he began to fidget under her stare.

"Ummm..." he ventured to say, "W-who are you?"

She finally allowed her lips to twist up into a small smile.

"Hello, Harry James Potter. My brother has told me so much about you," said the young lady as she walked around the table and sat on the edge right next to Harry. Her sudden closeness made his heart pump faster and he could feel heat on his cheeks.

"Do I know you?" he asked, trying hard not to look at her but failing miserably. She was so close.

"You will soon enough," replied the redhead.

There was a moment of silence that was very awkward for Harry. "W-who's your brother?"

"Oh?" the reply was instant, "He hasn't told you yet? Interesting. I guess he wants to see if you really are the one." She reached out her hand and her fingers stroked his cheek. Her skin was so soft and her touch made him tingle, the heat definitely rising in his cheeks. And he knew that she knew what effect she was having on him.

"In truth, I wanted to see for myself... and I can understand why my brother picked you."

Harry's emerald eyes locked onto her deep blue ones. "He... He picked me?" He was confused, curious, and definitely embarrassed, but mostly confused.

She smiled again and then withdrew her hand. Harry couldn't help but feel a little sad at the loss of her touch. The young lady stood up and began to walk away towards the end of the room from where she had entered.

"If you survive tomorrow, then we will talk in length." As she neared the door she cast a backwards glance at him and said, "Good luck, Harry."

Then she was gone.

* * *

**Author's notes: **What do you think? :) I apologize for the delay in continuing this story, but that's just the way I am. Sometimes my mind simply wants to write other stories, but know that I will eventually finish them all.


	8. Trial of Beasts: Pt I

**Notes: **Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and who are still reading this. I'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but as I've said before I promise to finish all stories that I write. That said, things are definitely getting more interesting...

* * *

**The Kingdom**

Trial of Beasts: Pt. I

* * *

Hermione was reading a book. Now, ordinarily this would not be a surprise to anyone. However what she was reading and where she was reading it was very much far from ordinary. In her hands was a ledger, a recording of every case in the last three years regarding missing persons. Specifically those cases that remained unsolved. She was reading it in a backroom of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - where they kept all those recent files, recent being within the last three years.

She was scrutinizing each case as she flipped through the surprisingly still thick book. This was a surprise because since the defeat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, many of whom were rounded up and brought to justice, a lot of those missing persons cases were found to be directly caused by those Death Eaters. This was gleaned through examination under truth serum of all captured Death Eaters.

Next to the book was a notebook that she was using to write notes in. Scribbling every now and then once every few cases. So engrossed was she in her reading that she had not realized that someone had walked into the room. The person had to tap her on the shoulder to make her aware that there was someone else there. The tapping made her jump, of course, her heart rate spiking for a moment as she nearly fell over in her seat.

"Oh my goodness... you scared me half to death, Ginny!" she said, slightly out of breath.

The spunky redhead grinned, crossing her arms, "Well I _did _call your name twice before I tapped you on the shoulder. You were seriously in the zone there."

Hermione glanced at the book. "Yeah. I guess I was." She looked back at the redhead. "There's just a lot more cases than I thought and I need to get through them all as quickly as possible. I feel like I shouldn't waste a single second... because... he... he's..."

Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know..." her demeanor had changed, turning a bit melancholy. "But you've been at this for hours without a break. My dad told me to come in here and force you to take a breather. You don't want to burn yourself out you know!"

Hermione sighed. "I... You're right. It's just that, every second I don't spend looking for clues is another second he's not getting found."

"Look. Let's take a short break, maybe get something to eat and drink and rest a little, then we come back here and I help you. How's that sound?"

Hermione looked up at Ginny. "Really?"

"Of course. I would've come here sooner but I had to help George with the shop for a while. He's been keeping extra busy... you know... with Fred gone..."

This time it was Hermione who reached out with a comforting touch. "I think we should go take that break now."

-**xxxxxx**-

Dawn came soon enough, and Harry was roused by the mysterious whistling man who delivered his meals to him, this time around for breakfast. He stretched and did a few body weight exercises to help warm up his muscles and wake himself up faster. He ate his meal quickly and quietly, noticing that it was significantly better today than ever before, perhaps having something to do with the fact that today was a fight day.

He wondered at that point why the voice had not spoken to him since he had that visitor the night before.

He had barely put down his bowl of food when heavy footsteps sounded from outside and the door to his cell was being unlocked. It was time.

This would be their second round at the Arena. He had somehow made it out alive from the first round, thanks in large part to the fact that he had grouped up with a young monk-to-be and an old elite knight. Without them he had no doubts he would have perished along with the countless others that had fought there. Again he wondered why this was even happening.

As usual he was taken to all the way outside the prison to a prisoner carriage, inside of which was the young monk and the knight. Kao smiled a little as he got into the carriage and Sir Gregor nodded to him in greeting. Like before they stayed silent during the ride over to the Arena and only spoke when they were in the staging area readying for the upcoming battle.

"Did you rest up well enough?" asked Sir Gregor, trying to gauge the current strength and stamina of his allies.

"Yes. I am fresh and ready," said Kao simply.

Harry gave a nod, "So am I."

Sir Gregor crossed his arms, reaching one hand up to rub his chin a little. "That man we spoke to at the end of the first round, the man who no doubt is behind all this. He said that there are bigger and better things coming, which means that the following rounds will be progressively harder." He paused to let that sink in. "We will need to keep our focus and," looking pointedly at Harry, "We must not hold back if we are to survive."

Kao voiced his agreement, "Understood."

Harry looked away, remembering the incident when he interrupted Sir Gregor. "I... I understand too." Even though he did not want to fight, he had to. If he was to survive, if _they _were to survive, they had to work together and to give one hundred percent of themselves to fighting for each other. That was their only hope of making it out of this strange and dangerous situation alive.

"Do either of you know who that man is?" Harry suddenly asked his two companions.

"No. I don't recognize him at all," replied Kao immediately.

Sir Gregor thought for a moment but then shook his head. "I also do not recognize him. But whoever he is, he is very powerful. I could feel it."

"Me too," Harry shivered, remembering the awesome aura of power that emanated from that man on the throne.

They stayed silent after that, all of them deep in thought.

Doors opened at one end of the staging room. Soldiers stood there and beckoned for them to head out already. Again, the closer they got to the fighting floor of the Arena the more they began to hear the sound of the crowd assembled.

Harry wondered who these people were who showed up to so violent and terrible a show. How could they tolerate such violent activity on a regular basis? How could they sit there, cheering, as people killed each other? It was so barbaric. So wrong. Not to mention the fact that the contestants were not doing it of their own free will. At least he thought that, since he had not broached the topic at all with his companions.

He decided to wait until after the upcoming fight to pose his question. They needed to focus on the task at hand: surviving the next round of fighting.

-**xxxxxx**-

Hermione drank greedily from her third butterbeer. She hadn't had one in a long time, having been drinking simply water and tea mostly over the last few months. This was a welcome deviation from the norm, and she was even more grateful to be in the company of her longtime close friend, Ginny. She looked over at the younger redhead and thought of all that they had been through.

Drinking the butterbeer after all also reminded her of her years at Hogwarts. She reminisced for a while as they sat there drinking in silence after having had dinner - it had been night out already when they left the Ministry to go out and eat.

They had all grown up so fast, but Ginny had grown up much faster than all of them. She had been possessed by the Dark Lord when she was a First Year after all and she was the youngest of the core group of friends who helped Harry through all his troubles and struggles against Voldemort. Up until the bitter end she had helped and fought at their side.

She had always been attractive, but now that she was a little older she was truly beautiful. And strong. Living with five older brothers had made her rather fearless, though also stubborn. But all that was what made her Ginny, and Hermione could not imagine her to be any other way.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" asked Ginny, sipping at her own butterbeer.

The brunette grinned, "Oh nothing, just thinking about the good old days..."

Ginny gave her a funny look, "Good old days? They weren't _that _long ago you know... and not all of it was good," she reminded the witch.

Hermione nodded solemnly, "True. But not all of it was bad either. Besides, it's better to remember the good times than the bad after all."

"You've got a point there."

"Do you think he's alright?" asked the brunette, looking at her bottle. "Do you think... we'll see him again?"

With as much conviction as she could muster, Ginny replied, "Yes. You and I both know that Harry's a tough one, especially after everything that we've been through." She looked at her own bottle as she added, "We'll see him again some day. I'm sure of it."

They were silent then, each in their own thoughts as they sat in a quiet booth at the back of a small cafe in Diagon Alley.

-**xxxxxx**-

The roar from the audience was once again deafening as they stepped out onto the fighting floor so they all cast spells that reduced the crowd noise to a faint sort of humming in the background. This time around instead of sand the ground was simply hard, barren soil. A slight change in environment, though it shouldn't make much of a difference. In fact, it should allow them to fight easier since the ground was more stable.

"Uh, guys... where are our opponents?" asked Harry as he looked around, seeing nobody else out there.

As soon as he had said that, there was a deep rumbling that echoed across the Arena as one of the gates across the field from them opened. At first nothing came out of the opened gate. Apprehension filled all three of them. Then there was movement and some things started to emerge from the darkened tunnel. They were beasts, more appropriately.

"What... are those things?" asked Kao, shaking a bit at the sight of the large beasts.

Sir Gregor unsheathed his broadsword, his face grim. "Those are Yeti," he pointed to the big, white-furred beasts that were similar in size to gorillas though they had thick horns on their heads like a bull. There were about a dozen of them, and they growled and roared as they approached the trio.

"Yeti?" Harry repeated, gripping his staff tightly.

"We can talk about them later. All you need to know right now is that they are fast, strong, and very tough to kill," he turned to Kao, "We need to slow some of them down so they don't all attack us at once. And we need to take advantage of the fact that they are still a ways away from us, we have long-range capabilities with your magic." He turned to Harry as he spoke.

Kao was already moving through his forms, chanting something under his breath. The ground began to rumble and, as with the sand, thick walls of soil erupted from the ground that separated the Yeti into three smaller groups. They roared at the sudden appearance of the walls, whether in surprise or anger it was tough to tell. There was a group of four that was not boxed in by the walls and they kept moving forward while the other two groups were working to get out of their imprisonment.

Kao was concentrating again, readying to attack.

Harry meanwhile sent spells flying, his staff twirling this way and that and the emerald orb glowing. A cutting spell landed on one of the Yeti and it roared in pain as a huge gash appeared on its side, but it kept moving forward only slightly slowing down. Some stunner spells he had used landed without any effect, though they did push the Yeti back a little from the impact.

The Yeti that were trapped had managed to break themselves out of their prison and were moving at twice the speed they were before, as if they were trying to make up ground. This time, instead of the ground moving up to block them, a big chasm appeared as the soil parted slightly and parts of it dropped down. Two Yeti were too far forward and moving too fast to stop in time and they fell into the deep trench. The others managed to stop in time while still others jumped the gap, showing their strength as they jumped high and far and made it to the other side safely.

Kao was sweating and shaking from his efforts, but he continued to move through his forms and chant. Readying his next move.

"Alright, I'll handle the close-quarters. Try and stay back," Sir Gregor told them as he readied his weapon and charged at one of the Yeti that was now only about thirty feet away.

Harry managed to down the Yeti that he had injured earlier, sending more cutting curses and bone-breakers that finally caused it to collapse, lying completely still on the ground. Since stunners weren't working, he tried the body freezing spell - "Petrificus totalus!" This spell also seemed to have no effect on the Yeti. It seemed they were immune to simple incapacitating spells.

The other two Yeti were close behind and Harry was panicking slightly. Sir Gregor could not possibly take on three Yeti on his own. He had to do something. He looked to Kao for a moment and saw that he was still focusing his efforts on the Yeti that were farther back. He would not be able to help in time either since his attacks required some time to do.

He ran to Sir Gregor, trying to think of a plan as he continued to send spells at the two Yeti that were fast approaching. They were dodging his attacks at this point, aware now of what they could do if they got hit.

The old knight reached the first Yeti and immediately tumbled to the side as it roared a challenge and slashed downward with a mighty fist, pounding it into the ground where the knight had been. Showing again the amazing training, speed, and strength that he himself had, Sir Gregor slashed upward with his broadsword against the exposed side of the Yeti.

Blood flowed from the deep wound as the Yeti roared. It swung its thick outstretched arm backward, but again missed as Sir Gregor jumped into the air to avoid the attack. He cast a spell at that point, his sword glowing, and at point-blank range launched it into the face of the Yeti. It howled and clutched at its face, stumbling backwards as the spell made contact. It's face was mangled and bloody, but it was still standing. It swung wildly with both hands this time as it tried to land a blow on the knight.

Managing to dodge its attacks, Sir Gregor landed close to the Yeti, far within its reach, and bellowed a war cry of his own as he launched himself upwards and hacked with his broadsword. The hard, sharp steel of his blade cut through the thick neck muscles of the Yeti as he flew up and over it and landed on the other side. The Yeti stumbled back some more, blood spraying now from its half-severed neck. Then it fell to its knees and to the ground with a loud thud as the ground shook ever so slightly.

As Harry approached, he noticed that the old knight was winded from that short battle. Sir Gregor collected himself though and readied for the two Yeti before him. Harry saw that the two Yeti were close enough now that they sprung forward, ready to bash the knight in. Thinking quickly, he cast a spell that sent binding ropes out from his staff, wrapping themselves tightly around the two Yeti and causing them to fall hard to the ground.

Sir Gregor wasted no time, moving forward the few steps between him and the bound Yeti. The farther of the two was already breaking free of his bonds, but he paid no attention to that as he focused on the one closest to him. He quickly raised his broadsword high as he stepped up to the head of the Yeti. It looked at him with it's large eyes. There was a wildness in them, a thirst for violence, but also a fear that quickly grew as it realized what was about to happen. It growled, showing menacing teeth. The broadsword came down, piercing through the forehead of the Yeti and out the back of its head. It gave one last guttural moan, convulsing slightly, before it died.

The second Yeti roared, ripping its bindings apart and instantly charging towards the old knight, who was still trying to dislodge his sword from the Yeti's head as it had gotten stuck. Harry remembered some stronger spells to use and instantly let loose. From such close range, it was hard to miss and also hard for the Yeti to dodge the attacks. It took three spells straight into its chest, pushing the best back as red streaks appeared. By the time the knight got his sword out, Harry had blasted the Yeti's head off in a spray of blood, having sent an explosion spell at it. As gruesome as that was, it was apparently highly effective.

Sir Gregor gave a nod of thanks to Harry.

"Guys! Watch out!" Kao yelled in alarm from behind them.

Five Yeti remained, a sixth that had managed to to get through had been impaled in a field of stalagmites that appeared after the chasm. Kao had definitely done a good job, but there was still more work to be done. To make matters seemingly worse, the remaining Yeti appeared to be even more bloodthirsty than before, and they were nearly upon the trio.

Harry gulped. "This is _not _good."

* * *

**Author's notes: **I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty excited about what's coming up next haha Some questions that I'm sure you all are wondering about will be answered in the next chapter.


	9. Trial of Beasts: Pt II

**Notes: **If it wasn't clear, this is quite an AU story by now heh Enjoy!

* * *

**The Kingdom**

Trial of Beasts: Pt. II

* * *

Harry stood next to Sir Gregor with his staff gripped tightly in his hands. Around the two of them were the corpses of the three Yeti they had recently slain, the fourth corpse lying a ways away as it had been taken out by Harry with a long-range attack earlier. Kao was still a few dozen feet behind, where they had originally stationed themselves. He was feeling tired at this point from all the magic he was using, but did not show it outwardly.

Five remaining bloodthirsty Yeti were fast approaching. Three of the Yeti stopped before them while the other two continued past them, heading for the youngest member of their group. Harry turned back in alarm at that. As far as he knew all of Kao's magic usage had been long and complicated. He would not survive a close-quarters battle with one Yeti, let alone two.

As if reading his mind, Sir Gregor spoke out. "Help him, Harry. He needs you more than I do. I'll handle these uglies."

Harry moved to go but then hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. Even though the knight was highly skilled, three Yeti seemed way too much for one man. But even then, Kao was desperately in need of assistance against the two. From the way things were looking, someone was going to get seriously hurt. Maybe even...

"Go, dammit! I'll be fine. Worry about Kao!" yelled Sir Gregor, fire in his eyes.

Harry gave a final nod and dashed back towards Kao, the two Yeti already only a dozen feet away on either side of him eyeing him hungrily.

-**xxxxxx**-

Prime Minster Worthington looked out the window of the helicopter that was transporting him to a newly assigned top secret military facility. He watched the scenery of his country go by a few thousand feet below him. Rolling green hills, patches of forest, farm fields and open fields in general. He could spot two nearby towns and tried to think of what those towns were.

His two bodyguards sat facing him in the seats opposite of where he sat down. They wore the typical government security detail dress suits with a tie and dark sunglasses. Both had sturdy body types. They made him feel quite safe. As was expected of them, they were silent during most of the trip.

The Prime Minister began to think about the meeting he had a while back with his cabinet and the military chiefs after he had met with the _other _Prime Minister of Britain. The one in charge of the other half. The Britain of magic. They had been as shocked as he was about the revelation and wholeheartedly agreed with his proposals regarding the security issues posed by the other side of their country. A side that was as unpredictable as it was out of their control.

He had contacted the President of the United States on the matter, since the United States was of course a close ally of Britain. He assumed that most if not all heads of state knew of the existence of magic, and he wondered what they might have done with regards to this matter. What he had learned though was that there was very little done in the way of directly focusing military development against magic users. For the most part, the non-magical governments trusted their magical counterparts to maintain order and peace.

While conventional weaponry did seem to harm them, the magicians still had a significant edge since it was _magic _that they were using after all. As far as he knew, it could do anything. Looking back through the records of disasters in the last several years, he wondered how many of them were actually caused by magic. The current state of affairs regarding the non-magic world's military stance towards the magic world was unacceptable to Worthington.

Of course, he was not stupid enough to want to go to war against them. Continued peace was still of the highest priority. There was no need for war if it could be avoided. What he did want however was to be prepared for a situation wherein they might have to fight against them. What he was doing was defensive-minded. Survival-minded. He also, if the situation ever arose, wanted to make sure he had a potential bargaining chip on the table.

He only hoped that his actions would remain a secret lest they might cause a provocation from the magical world. That would no doubt turn out to be disastrous.

One of the bodyguards reached up to his ear as a transmission came through. He spoke up. "Prime Minister sir, we will be arriving in a few minutes."

Sure enough, the helicopter began to lose altitude and soon touched down with a light jostle on the tarmac of the new top secret facility. A welcoming party was already there consisting of some grunts as well as the officers who were going to run the newly created Tactical Anti-Magic Engagement and Research Squadron. TAMERS for short - the government really did love their acronyms.

A bodyguard opened the door on the side facing the welcoming party and stepped out. He looked around briefly before stepping aside and holding the door open. His colleague stepped out and moved to the other side and waited for the Prime Minister, who was right behind him. As he stepped out, Worthington ducked slightly and raised a hand to his face to block the wind generated by the still moving helicopter blades. He was still not used to the whole chopper experience and much preferred car rides.

Three military officers in full uniform walked up to greet the head of British government. Two men and a female.

"Prime Minister Worthington, sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," said the man who stood between the two. The obvious leader of the three. He was tall, roughly six foot six inches with steel gray eyes and matching, close-cropped gray hair. He had thin gray eyebrows and a thick grayish-white mustache. Three stars were pinned to his shoulder patches, as well as a few decorations and awards that were pinned to his chest.

Worthington nodded, the noise from the chopper dying down as the engines were cut. He extended a hand to greet the man. "General Griffin, it's good to finally meet you as well." He looked to the two other officers accompanying the general, and the senior officer introduced them.

"Prime Minister, I'd like to introduce you to Lieutenant Colonel Hopper," he gestured to the woman who saluted and then extended her hand to shake the Prime Minister's, "She'll be in charge of research and development here at TAMERS." Hopper was quite striking, slender with shoulder-length blonde hair and bright green eyes. The one flaw on her face was a medium-sized scar that went from underneath the edge of her left eye and ran horizontally towards her temple. It was about an inch long and looked fairly recent. The Prime Minister wondered what was the story behind it, though not aloud so as not to be rude.

Apparently he had quite obviously stared at it for too long, however, because the Lieutenant Colonel noticed his interest and offered a quick explanation. "A lab accident, Prime Minister. Suffice to say that I won't be spending too many late nights with volatile materials again." She smiled a little.

Worthington grimaced slightly as he imagined what might have caused the injury, then nodded and grinned a little emphatically at the explanation. He had heard of the brilliant scientific mind, who was also a good soldier as well. She was one of the brightest minds to ever come out of the Cambridge University system. Her specialty was in physics, though she was also well versed in chemistry and biology.

The general and the Prime Minister then turned their attention to the remaining officer. He was shorter than Griffin, though he was still taller than the Prime Minister by about an inch, standing at about six feet tall. He was about the same age as Hopper, with a receding hairline and short, close-cropped hair similar to the general's except he actually had brown color to it as opposed to the senior officer's gray.

"And this is Major Travers. He will be in charge of all combat and reconnaissance operations." Again they went through the introductory ritual of shaking hands and saying it was a pleasure to meet the other. Once the pleasantries were all through, they finally made their way off the tarmac.

"First stop, my office for some rest and refreshments. Then we can have the tour afterwards, I'm sure the journey was somewhat tiring," said the general.

"Yes, the trip was much longer than I thought it would be. Then again it _is _rather difficult to be inconspicuous as the Prime Minister nowadays," replied Worthington with an exasperated sigh.

They spent close to half an hour resting in the general's office. It was a spacious one and was at the top floor of one of the few nondescript buildings that were above ground. Much of the facility was located underground after all. The general also had one of the few offices with windows, which were made of thick, reinforced glass. Through the windows the base bustled with activity as a number of trucks of varying sizes drove around. There were still deliveries coming in of the equipment that was needed for the new task force.

The general noticed that the Prime Minister was observing the bustle outside and spoke up. "We should be up and running within a few days, once we're finally settled in and set up. Colonel Hopper has told me that the base laboratories are being set up properly and on schedule. Major Travers has also reported that base personnel and their families are already moving in and settling down as we speak."

"Are you sure it's wise to keep their families here? We don't want any word of this getting out until the time TAMERS is actually needed," Worthington asked, "As you know, general. Surprise in this case is of the utmost importance with regards to our potential... to any potential hostile magic forces." He was about to say enemies, but decided against using such a strong word. They were not enemies at the moment after all, not to mention he hoped that they would never have to actually use the new task force in a war.

He shuddered to think of the potential casualties and damages that might be caused should a war between the non-magic world and magic world erupt. He got a hold of himself though: at least with the task force casualties on the non-magic side should be far less than a war without them.

General Griffin chuckled. "I understand the situation, Mister Prime Minister. I assure you that any personnel you find on this base was hand-picked, double-checked, and vetted thoroughly by the three of us here. Even the truck drivers. All of their families too of course. If any word gets out about TAMERS, it won't be because of us."

Worthington nodded slowly, "Very well, I of course trust your judgement general." He finished the rest of his tea and then turned to the general, "Now, let's get on with the tour shall we? I don't have all day."

-**xxxxxx**-

Harry stabbed his staff through the air in front of him, sending as many assault spells as he could muster towards the two white-furred beasts converging on Kao. This distracted the Yeti, making them jump out of the way to dodge the attacks. They growled at him, assessing the newcomer. They then appeared to share a quick conversation by growling at each other, much to Harry's surprise.

Kao was busy chanting as fast as he could. As one of the Yeti approached Harry, the other turned its attention back on Kao. They apparently decided to split up - not the dumb creatures that Harry originally thought they were.

As the other Yeti moved closer to Kao, the young monk finished his chanting and cast his spell. A thick stone cage emerged with a lot of dust and rumbling from the ground to protect him, causing the Yeti to take a step back. The Yeti then roared at the obstacle between him and his prey and swiped at the earthy cage. It was solid and stayed intact, though a chunk of it broke off where the Yeti had hit with its fist. Seeing that, it proceeded to pound away at the cage. All the while Kao was chanting yet again.

Harry quickly turned back to the Yeti that was nearly on top of him, realizing he had been so worried about Kao that he had completely forgotten his own safety. It pounced at him and were it not for his Quidditch and Seeker-honed reflexes he might not have made it. He jumped to the side and rolled, his staff getting lost in the process and clattering a few feet away.

The Yeti landed in the spot he had previously occupied, pounding the ground hard and causing the ground to shake slightly. Some cracks appeared in the earth from the blow that was delivered.

He cursed under his breath as he got to his feet. The Yeti, realizing it had missed, turned and moved to pounce again. There was practically no time to think, Harry trusting his instincts as he jumped out of the way once again, rolling on the ground another time. As he got back to his feet for a second time he realized that he was farther from his staff now than he was before.

Again he cursed at his situation as the Yeti, getting very irritated at its jumping prey, decided to advance slower this time so as to keep track of where Harry was. The young wizard backed away slowly. He took quick glances around at his companions. Kao was still chanting, his cage nearly broken through while Sir Gregor seemed to be barely holding on; two of the Yeti he was fighting appeared to be injured, but he also was not looking so good himself.

The Yeti, only ten feet away from him now, growled and flared its nostrils. It's white fur was dirtied, making it look even wilder. Then it did something that Harry was not expecting - it lowered its head and charged at him with its horns. Its large arms were stretched out to his sides as well with its giant hands open and ready, in case its prey decided to jump sideways again.

Harry then did the only thing he could do. He jumped. Up. Again his gut instinct kicked in, adrenaline rushing through his system and his heart galloping in his chest. He soared right over the charging white beast, eliciting a growl of surprise as he did so cleanly. He landed into a roll and then on to his feet on the other side, as shocked as the Yeti was at what he had done.

The beast turned around and charged again, though this time not with its horns down. It simply ran towards Harry. No tricks or special moves, just trying to get closer to maim, pummel, and kill.

Harry did not know what to do next. Fear crept in him. And panic too.

This was it.

This was the end of the line for Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

-**xxxxxx**-

"He's not going to make it!" hissed the red-haired young woman in alarm, standing up from her chair and lurching forward with surprising speed and grace. Her blue eyes glowed with power. She raised her right hand, which also began to glow. As she was about to do something, a hand suddenly grabbed hers tightly, stopping her movements.

A man who looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties had appeared beside her. He had unruly black hair that ran to his shoulders and dark brown eyes that looked almost black unless you were looking closely. He shook his head and said simply, "Wait. Just wait." His gaze never left the field below where they were spectating from.

She looked at him with alarm, eyes wide, before regaining control of her emotions and calming down. She eased the tension in her hand, which in turn resulted in the older man letting her go as he felt her relax. She stood by the railing of the spectator box they were in, watching the scene unfold in front of her. The dark-haired man stood silently beside her.

She would trust her brother's judgement. She only hoped he was right in not interfering.

* * *

**Author's notes: **Okay, I lied. _S__ome_ answers will come _next _chapter instead. This time for real! :) Also, next chapter will be much longer than this one, I promise.


	10. Trial of Beasts: Pt III

**The Kingdom**

Trial of Beasts: Pt. III

* * *

_This was it._

_This was the end of the line for Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived._

The Yeti was on him within another second, its immediate first strike was to backhand the young wizard with one of its large, barrel-like arms. When its arm connected, the raven-haired wizard was painfully sent flying away about twenty feet. The Yeti roared in satisfaction as he watched Harry fly off and land, clearly in a painful manner.

He landed on the ground heavily and bounced a few more feet, his body rolling and arms and legs flailing about. Several cuts opened on his head, blood gushing out immediately. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises were already forming all over his body. His clothing was torn, though his armor had thankfully saved him from more severe damage. He could hardly breathe however because the wind had been knocked out of him.

The pain had hit him instantly and grew as time moved forward. He grimaced. He groaned. He felt battered. Everything hurt. He could feel the warm blood soaking his hair and trickling across his face. There was a ringing in his ears and he had a splitting headache. Well, he had a splitting everything ache it seemed like. He managed to roll to his side, painfully, and coughed blood. This was not good at all, but he was surprisingly still alive. For how long though he was not sure. In fact, even in his semi-concussed and confused state he began to question why he was not being ripped apart, eaten, or gored yet.

He opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, though he could make out general shapes. The sounds of fighting were slowly returning. Someone was yelling something angrily. There was a roar, then the ground shook. Or at least he thought it shook. He was not sure. He closed his eyes. After a time a pair of hands started to grab him roughly, and he hissed with pain, grimacing. This was it, he realized. He was finally going to die, and it was no ordinary death either. He was about to be eaten by a Yeti after all.

When nothing happened, he slowly became more aware of what was going on around him. Instead of being eaten, he realized that he was being shaken to his senses instead. Someone was calling his name too.

"Harry! Harry! Harry Potter! Wake up! Harry!" The sound was muffled, as if his name was being yelled from far away or through a wall, or even underwater.

He opened his eyes slowly and it took a moment to focus properly. There was someone kneeling over him who was holding and shaking him. It was Kao.

Relief flood through him. What a sight it was to see a friendly face instead of a hungry Yeti. The young monk was sitting beside him. He looked very upset and worried, tears soaking his face and eyes. He smiled slightly as he saw Harry was still alive, but it was only for a brief moment.

"Wha... wha... at... what... ha... happ..." Harry tried to say, his voice barely a whisper and his head still spinning.

"Sir Gregor..." Kao whimpered, eyes shifting elsewhere as he shook his head.

It was then that Harry noticed that they were in another earthen cage, and there were still two Yeti alive and trying to get through the rock barrier between them and their prey. They were methodically hammering away at the cage, dust falling on the occupants. It was only a matter of time before they got in and finished them off.

Harry turned, ignoring the pain in his neck, and looked for the old knight himself. He found the knight's sword first, embedded into the skull of the Yeti that had attacked Harry. The knight himself, however, was nowhere to be found.

"Sir...?" he looked groggily back at the young monk, asking about him again.

"He... he's..." Kao started to say, but he began to sob and shake his head. He was shaking. He could not bring himself to say it out loud because he did not want to believe it himself.

He took a little while to process what was going on, but as the realization dawned on him a heavy weight filled his gut.

_No... no, this can't be happening. Did he...? Was Sir Gregor really...? _Harry thought, but even in his mind he could not say that awful 'D' word. For Harry, thinking of that was preposterous. It was simply improbable that the old knight would lose.

The pain was subsiding quickly, his body going numb. There was no way this was actually happening. This was not how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to survive all the stages and win in the Arena so that they may be free. So that they could go home. But it had all fallen apart because of his failure. Because he had been weak. Because in truth he had very little skill and had been getting by simply through instinct and raw power.

Tears flowed from his eyes, mixing with the blood on his skin but he did not care. His salty tears made some of his cuts burn, but he barely noticed the sensation as he tried to fathom the depth of the situation they were in. To come to the grips with the fact that he had let everyone down. He closed his eyes, his eyes still tearing up.

Harry had not known Sir Gregor for long, in fact they had barely learned much about each other. What the young wizard did know was that the old knight was a master with the sword and a skilled warrior. That he was as honorable and just as he was formidable and strong. He had joined them because he cared for their safety, considering how much younger they were compared to everyone else who was there. He had fought bravely and made sure that they stayed alive, even sacrificing his own life in order to protect theirs. And to think that Harry had let him down. That Harry had once again been the cause of someone else's death.

He cried for what seemed like a while, though in reality it was only for about another minute. The cage was about to be breached, but he was oblivious to it all. The emotion was washing over him, overpowering his senses and his mind. Harry felt a resolve grow within him, a strength that flooded through his body. He would not stand for it anymore. He would not stand for being weak. For being a liability. For being the reason those he cared about were hurt, or worse.

He was not aware of why this was all happening or what was truly going on, but he did know that he was tired of it all. Tired of being weak. Tired of being lucky. Tired of being dependent. Tired of having everyone around him do most of the work. And most of all, tired of losing people because of his incompetence. Tired. Tired. Tired! He felt a growing power within him, a sudden rising tide of magical energy. He did not understand what it was or where it came from, but he did not resist it.

Harry let the energy flow freely and fill his body. It did not take look before he realized that he could no longer contain the growing energy within himself. The energy needed to dissipate. It needed release. He opened his eyes, and Kao who had been looking at him curiously gasped lightly as he noticed the glowing in his eyes.

Harry suddenly began to levitate off the ground, eliciting another surprised gasp from Kao, who edged away a little as he was unsure of what to do. Harry's pupils were no longer visible, his eyes simply turning into glowing lights. Around him, a visible aura of power formed. A white field of energy that engulfed him like a flame, shimmering and awe-inspiring. Around them, rocks and dirt on the ground began to rise into the air. A wind started to blow around them, getting steadily stronger. The aura around the young wizard intensified, getting brighter and brighter.

The cage had been breached at this point, but the Yeti were stopped cold in their tracks. They held their arms up, shielding themselves from the increasingly blinding white light. They also were suddenly unsure of what to do - the amount of power that they could feel emanating from their previously weak prey gave them considerable pause.

Then, in a brilliant and instantaneous flash the magic that Harry was channeling through his body exploded outward. An explosion of power that formed a dome of energy raced outwards. The cage crumbled into nothingness and the Yeti, when the white magical energy hit them, disintegrated into ash. The ground shook violently, the earth cracking from the strain.

The dome of energy expanded even farther, covering the entire field before hitting the barriers that protected the crowd. Those barriers proved powerful enough to absorb the remaining energy in the blast, though it was significantly less than at the ground zero point, of course. Afterwards, the white aura around Harry disappeared and his eyes stopped glowing before they closed and darkness took him. He slowly lowered to the ground and eventually fell to his side unconscious but thankfully still breathing.

-**xxxxxx**-

"Do you see now, sister?" The black-haired male had the smallest of grins on his face, but a grin nonetheless. He was most definitely pleased with what had occurred in the Arena.

His sister at first was frowning. "That was cutting it a little too close, brother." Her arms were crossed in front of her chest as she gave him a short glare.

But then she uncrossed her arms and let them hang at her sides. She relaxed some muscles that she had not realized until then that she was tensing. She sighed, the tension that she had as she was watching the end of the trial finally going away. Her brother had been right after all. This was all part of the plan, and things seemed to be working out as they needed them to so far.

She thought of the young raven-haired wizard who had displayed such tremendous raw power to end the trial and save him and his remaining team member. There definitely was a lot more to him than she had initially thought. Especially in the power department. She had been extremely curious as to why her brother had picked him to be the catalyst of their plan.

When she had visited him the night before, she had sensed his magical aura at the time and it did not hold a candle to the power he had displayed before their very eyes. She wondered how that was, and how she was unable to detect his hidden power whereas it seemed like her brother was able to. As twins, their powers should have been equal, but it was beginning to get more and more obvious to her that his power had grown more than her's had. And that he had a greater command of magic than she did, though he would not openly admit it and she did not want to truly accept it. She looked to him with carefully disguised curiosity and tried to reason why this was so.

The fact that they were twins never would have occurred to anyone who saw the two. They were fraternal twins. They looked so different that the only similarity they had was some semblance of similar facial structure. Other than that, their hair, eyes, and overall body structure and even demeanor were different. Sometimes, she fleetingly had ideas that maybe they were not actually twins after all. Those thoughts would of course be squashed as swiftly as they had popped into her head, but the fact that she even thought for a second about it had already planted the seed of doubt in her subconscious.

Her brother's eyes were still observing the battlefield, though he looked to be in deep thought from the way he was looking but not really paying attention. The wheels were turning in his head no doubt. Running through the strategy they had already discussed at length for years. With this stage of the plan complete, the next moves had to be made quickly but carefully to continue setting up the board without causing too much attention. After all, they would need both surprise and raw power to succeed in the end.

-**xxxxxx**-

"THE ROUND HAS ENDED," boomed a magically-enhanced voice that echoed around The Arena.

Kao could not believe what had recently transpired. He was still reeling from the back-to-back events of Sir Gregor's terrible death and Harry's sudden and mysterious display of immense power. He had not anticipated that from the young wizard, who while perfectly capable in his eyes was perhaps only a bit above average in terms of fighting skills. Whatever he had done towards the end of that round had saved their lives.

How Harry managed to control the energy to not consume both him and Sir Gregor's body was another mystery that he figured he would not understand. The Yeti were not as lucky however as they had been completely obliterated - even the corpses of the dead ones. That made it easy to spot Sir Gregor, who lay on his face in the dirt with his tattered robe up and covering his face, exposing the backside of his armor.

It was dented and scratched, and there was a good amount of blood on the armor. Pooling around him was the same red liquid of life. After making sure that Harry was okay, he had gone over to Sir Gregor's body. As he approached, he felt his feet get heavier and he found himself looking down on the ground. He did not really want to take a closer look, but he knew that it was better for the knight to lie facing the sky instead of having his face in the ground.

Kneeling by his head, off to the side a little, he gently but firmly rolled the knight over. Fresh tears once again rolling down his cheeks, he saw more blood coming from the holes of the battered full-helmet. He wasn't sure if he should take his helmet off or not, and eventually decided against it. Better to keep a fresh image of him in his mind than to see his beaten and bloodied face for the last time.

The young Chinese monk whispered a few words in his language to honor the fallen knight. He then stood up and walked over to where the knight's sword was lying on the ground, covered in dried blood. Carefully, he picked it up and brought it back to rest with its master. Kao gently placed it on the knight's chest, hilt facing his head and the weapon running parallel to the knight's body. He brought together the hands of the knight, placing them one over the other upon the hilt of the sword.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him shook and caused him to look around tensely. Were there other beasts? He felt his heart rate climbing again and his breathing quicken. If there were more enemies, more beasts to fight, he would not be able to take them out alone. He and Harry were definitely done for. Thankfully, he saw nothing around him and none of the gates were open either.

Then he realized that, like before, the ground beneath them was the cause of the commotion because it had broken off and shot up several dozen feet. They then moved again towards the man who seemed to be the one controlling it all. Kao checked to make sure that Harry was also being brought along, his unconscious body lying peacefully in the middle of his own earthen transport that was a good distance away. Both earthen transports were getting closer though as they neared their destination.

They were brought before the powerful old man, Kao again feeling the overwhelming radiance of his magic emanating off of his body. He still knelt by the fallen knight, but felt too tired, emotionally and physically, as well as too afraid to move a muscle. His eyes were fixated on the old man who sat in his marble throne with a most curious expression.

An expression that was solely focused on Harry Potter. Harry fortunately or unfortunately was not aware of this since he was unconscious, but Kao could have sworn he stirred a little as if his body were reacting of its own accord to the staring. At least that also meant that Harry was still alive since the last time he had checked. He felt some relief from that.

For whatever reason, Kao said something that broke the silence. And at first the man on the throne did not hear it, but then Kao said it a second time - a little louder - and that finally got the man's attention.

"Why?" Kao had asked. It was said so softly and meekly that at first the man on the throne did not want to answer, but when it was asked again in a louder and stronger voice he could not help but observe the young warrior who would ask such a simple and yet important question.

"Why?" he asked that second time.

The old man could see that this particular warrior was barely past boyhood. He seemed to think for a moment, stroking his thick gray and white beard. He decided that a little demonstration might be in order. He smiled, his eyes hard and penetrating as he looked deeply at the young monk, who shivered under the gaze. The old man stood up then, still smiling and still looking at the young one with his hard gaze.

For Kao it was as if he was in a trance. No matter how hard he tried to look away, he found that he could not. His body was betraying him. He realized then that someone was in his mind, squirming through sneakily and looking through his memories. Recent memories, in fact. He reacted quickly, calling forth all his remaining strength to sealing his mind mentally and throwing this presence out.

That seemed to work for a moment, for the old man's smile disappeared and was replaced by pursed lips that looked close to being a frown. He furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly and a sudden onslaught of mental energy surged from him. Kao, though, was a master of the mind arts thanks to the countless hours of meditation - even for his relatively young age he had been taught about controlling one's mind and meditating since he could understand the concept.

He thought of a singular thing. A rare blue flower on the steppes of the Himalayas that could be found near his village. He concentrated hard on thinking about it. The shape of its petals. The number of petals. The different textures as well as the different hues of blue. It dominated his thoughts, making his mind nearly impossible to break into.

This time the old man reacted by stepping down from his throne and walking towards the edge of his viewing platform. He was shaking his head ever so slightly and closed his eyes for a few seconds as if he was thinking of something before reopening them again. Still looking at Kao, he finally smiled again and spoke in a regular voice.

"You want... to know why?" he said, "You want to know why this is being done? What this is all for? Is this correct or am I mistaken?"

Kao was stunned by the reply, though he made sure to keep his mental barriers steady in case this was a ploy to catch him with his guard done. Sure enough, he could feel the light probing of the powerful man - only the slightest brush of his consciousness, showing the degree of skill and mastery the man possessed. He breathed in deeply and nodded to the old man. "Yes. Why? What is... the purpose of all this? Why do you host such terrible and cruel trials? Is it simply for entertainment?"

The man laughed. It was a laugh that made a shiver run down Kao's spine. With one smooth gesture he extended his left arm, hand wide open. Suddenly, the body of Sir Gregor lifted off the ground and then moved quickly towards the man's outstretched hand. His hand clamped around the neck of the dead knight.

Kao had no idea what he was up to, staring in confusion at the man. He was about to ask what he was up to when he did something that Kao could not believe and that he wished he could forget.

Standing there while holding out the corpse of his fallen comrade, the man with the jeweled crown smiled one last time before turning to the fallen knight. He seemed to size it up for a second, then another second later he opened his mouth and his eyes began to glow. At first nothing happened, but within a few seconds trails of blue energy particles started to filter out of various points of the corpse. The particle trails made their way towards the man's open mouth.

As this was happening, Kao could clearly see that the body was drying up and aging really fast. There was this sucking sound. It was loud, almost as if done purposefully loud so all could hear. After about thirty seconds he dropped the knight to the ground who upon hitting the surface collapsed into a pile of ash himself. There was no flesh left, only bone within the ruined armor that was once his comrade.

The young monk had been unable to turn his eyes away, even though every fiber of his being wanted to, he simply could not. The magic holding him in place was far more powerful than he could manage to overthrow. So he watched in absolute horror and disgust as his friend and comrade-in-arms, who he had only recently seen killed in action, get the remaining life energy and magical energy left in his corpse sucked out of him. Like some juice box being sucked dry.

The old man lowered his arm and slowly turned to look at Kao, a smirk on his face. "_This_... is why." He said this as he got back onto his throne, without any further explanation. He flicked his hand and the armored bones were flung back onto the platform that Kao was on, the bones rattling against the armor from the inside. Kao found that he was no longer being restrained and he crawled over to the bones of his friend.

With one last look at the unconscious Harry, the old man waved his hand and the earthen platforms began to move away.

-**xxxxxx**-

"Things continue to go as planned," remarked the redhead as she observed from their own box, not too far from the Lord's viewing platform. The Lord himself returning to his marble throne and then the two remaining survivors of the group were being returned to the ground. "Although," she paused to look at her brother, "That little stunt was unexpected. I did not think he would tell him the true reason he has these warriors here and holds these trials."

He shrugged. "It's been a while since he's done that out in the open," he admitted, "But that also means he's even more interested in Harry Potter than we thought he might be. This might play out better than expected." After a moment of silence, he looked to his beautiful sister and with a stern voice said, "Don't fail in your upcoming tasks, sister. We're only going to get one shot at this."

She returned his gaze with equal intensity. "I won't fail."

* * *

**Author's notes: **More story to come! And even longer chapters are ahead.

Also, I got my first non-english review! haha had to use Google translate, but apparently he likes the story. Gracias!


	11. Path to Freedom

**The Kingdom**

Path to Freedom

* * *

Hermione unconsciously followed her mother around the mall, her mind still thinking about Harry's disappearance. She had worked late into the early morning hours with Ginny and had finished going through all the unsolved cases in Britain. They had also managed to narrow it down to those cases that matched Harry's own. Namely, those cases where little to no evidence was found of an abduction of someone who was alone or in a remote area.

While Harry was abducted in a rather populated area, the fact that it was Knockturn Alley meant that nobody would have really been paying attention to anyone suspicious since everyone who traveled around there was suspicious anyway. Some of the cases were similar, in the middle of towns and some shady areas of cities, and all having occurred overnight.

Those cases were thankfully few in number, as most of the unsolved ones had many clues but all of them leading to dead ends or trails that simply ran cold. In fact, over the last three years there were exactly eighteen such cases. That was definitely a manageable number to go over and find connections between them, if there were any.

What she had found, after about only a half hour of studying the cases looking for any connections was that there were exactly six such cases each year for the last three years. And each case happened almost exactly two months apart. Further inspection found that they actually were all spaced out approximately two months apart each, with a margin of error of only a day in some cases.

That had instantly raised a red flag for Hermione as she realized that these were all definitely connected and, judging from the systematic nature of the abductions as well as the way all of them were conducted, they were all done by the same perpetrator. This much was clear to her: there was a systematic and serial case of abductions most likely being done by the same person or group and there has been for at least the last three years. But why? And how did they choose their targets?

She needed to further study the cases, but at the time she was already beginning to feel sluggish and tired so she had called it a night. Then she remembered upon waking seven hours later that she had promised her mother that she would go shopping with her today. Even though she wanted to stay and continue looking over the cases, she couldn't cancel now and alert her parents to the fact that something was wrong. She hadn't told them about Harry's abduction, mostly because she was unsure of how they would react.

They had been stressed and worried enough about her safety during the war, but now that the war was over they were looking forward to some peace and comfort. They were particularly happy that their daughter was now out of serious danger. Her parents were aware of what happened, having been told the story of the final days of the war by many sources, Hermione included. They respected and appreciated the sacrifices of those who had given their lives to defend the world from darkness, and they looked at their child as well as her friends in a whole new light.

But she was still their only child, their beloved daughter. Even after all she had been through, they would worry again if she told them about Harry's disappearance. They might overreact this time, and she wanted to avoid that. She also did not want to worry them when they didn't need to be concerned with it. Ignorance, in this case, was bliss and better for both her and her parents.

She only hoped that her spending a few hours away from her investigations wouldn't be harmful to Harry in some way. He was a strong wizard, a tougher man than he was years ago when they first met, and she knew or at least hoped that he wouldn't be taken down so easily. What comforted her was that, while she did not know how or why, she knew that he was alive out there wherever he was.

But for how long?

-**xxxxxx**-

Harry groaned as he regained consciousness. His body felt so heavy and so sore. Even though he knew he had been out for a while, he still felt tired. Like he had finished a marathon after having already done a triathlon. His mind was in a haze as he tried to remember what had happened to him. He opened his eyes, half-expecting to wake up and find himself back in that dirty little room in the Horned Frog Inn off Knockturn Alley.

Unfortunately for him, he was back in his prison cell. He would have laughed mirthlessly at his wishful thinking, but he was too tired to do so. That was when he noticed that he felt something he had never felt before. A feeling inside of him that was both novel and familiar. A part of him that had seemingly been there all along and yet he had never felt until now. He shut his eyes.

He wondered what it was. Cautiously, he focused on it. As his consciousness brushed that unknown thing within him, he suddenly felt a surge of energy. His eyes fluttered open, wide with surprise as he gasped. Whatever it was, it seemed to have waited for him to activate it. And once he did, he realized that the feeling was some energy source within him.

A source that throbbed mightily with power. As soon as he had tapped it, the power used that connection point as an access point and it flooded his body with energy. Gone was the heavy exhaustion that he had felt only moments ago, replaced instead by a renewed vigor and vitality. He was at a loss to describe what it was, but for the moment he was thankful for it.

Sitting upright on the bed, he gathered his thoughts and tried to remember what had happened. He recalled the second round and the yetis, but at one point he simply blacked out and did not remember a thing. His stomach grumbled, and seemingly as if it had been loud enough to be heard by all a food tray was slid under the door.

He noted that the meal actually looked edible for once. In fact, it looked very good. He devoured it quickly and returned the tray near the door where he knew it would get picked up eventually. With nothing else to do, he started to pace around and think. He was trying to figure out what it was that was inside of him. A few theories came up, but he wanted to be sure and yet had no way of knowing. After a while he changed track, trying hard to remember once again what had happened at the second trial.

Harry hoped that Kao and Sir Gregor were alright.

The thought of the knight finally triggered his memory, which had been lost to him until that point. He was gone. The brave and strong knight. Harry felt a weight in his stomach as he stopped pacing, the realization dawning on him that Sir Gregor was dead. He remembered now. He and Kao were taking refuge underneath one of the special stone barriers that Kao had erected as two surviving Yeti tried to break through.

Then at one point, he remembered feeling this sudden surge of energy. As if something inside of him had come alive and with sudden clarity he knew what he had to do. His staff had flown into his hands and he remembered raising it up as he felt the energy building and building rapidly. Then it exploded outward because he was unable to contain it, though that was what he had wanted to do in the first place. And then darkness as he blacked out.

He mourned for the old knight, sitting down on the edge of his little bed because he found it hard to keep standing. Kao was okay at least, but he wondered how long they would survive without the strength and the skill of Sir Gregor. Being perfectly honest with himself, Harry knew that he and his other young companion had survived thus far thanks to the knight. But now he was gone, and the two of them would have to continue alone. He only hoped they would make it out of the next round, and this whole ordeal, alive.

It took him a while before he managed to shake off, at least for the moment, the sadness and guilt he felt for Sir Gregor's death. He contemplated the beautiful redhead that had spoken to him the night before, wondering when she would return to talk to him. She had said that they would talk at length if he survived the second trial after all.

She had mentioned that her brother had chosen him, that he was "the one." He laughed bitterly at that notion. Here it was again. Fate coming in and having different plans for his life than what he would have wanted. He wondered how many more things he was fated to do as opposed to doing things that he simply did because he wanted to.

Still, he did realize that he did not feel as down as he had while he was staying at the inn. Even though he was once again forced into another strange and complicated situation, he had at least found a drive once again. That same drive to survive and to triumph. Right now he had a clear goal: gain his freedom, and he was going to do everything he could to achieve that goal.

Several hours later - he actually had no idea of the time, though he could hazard a guess based on the light coming in from the barred window and the small glimpse of the sky he could make out - he was dozing when he heard the sound of steel boots echoing in the hallway outside. Sitting up on his bed he waited for them, already knowing that they were coming for him.

Sure enough the door to his cell was opened and the soldiers were soon ushering him outside and escorting him through the prison. He was placed back into the visiting room from the night before, this time being left alone inside though not without being chained to the metal chair that was bolted to the ground.

About a minute later the door on the other side of the room opened and in walked two people. The first was the redheaded woman from the night before, this time wearing a dark blue dress with white frills along the edges, the dress going a little past her knees. She looked as captivating as ever, moving with the grace and power of a lioness.

Following behind her was a man who was much taller and bigger than the woman. He wore well-made, expensive-looking robes with varying shades of green and with some gold mixed in. Around his shoulders was draped an emerald cape with gold embroidery. He was well-built and sturdy-looking, with a chiseled jaw and a prominent nose. He had shoulder-length messy dark hair, though not on the same level of messiness as Harry's. Dark eyebrows hovered over equally dark brown eyes. Eyes that seemed almost black to Harry.

He reminded Harry of a medieval noble. The man also had an aura of power and command about him, but it was even greater than the woman's. Or at least more aggressive. Harry could feel himself tensing, his body unconsciously reacting to the man's presence. Because he exuded such power and confidence, an alpha male vibe for sure, it felt somewhat threatening and intimidating. If the man noticed Harry's reaction, he did not show it.

He had an unreadable look on his face, his dark eyes locked on Harry the entire time he walked over. The woman did the same, but at least her gaze was less intimidating. He found himself trying hard not to look at the man, content with enjoying the view of the beautiful redhead.

The woman sat down in the seat across from him, the man coming to a stop a little behind her with his arms behind his back.

"Hello, Harry Potter." The woman greeted him with a smile that made Harry feel a little woozy. In the back of his mind, he wondered if perhaps she had some kind of natural magical charm, not unlike a veela.

"Hello," he replied as calmly as he could, "I take it you're here to... talk to me at length?" he repeated her words from the night before back at her, sneaking a glance at the intimidating dark-haired man. In truth, he was feeling rather nervous and anxious about what they were going to talk about.

"You are correct." She replied evenly, then turned to look at her companion. "I think it's time to introduce ourselves, dear brother."

For the first time since entering the room, the intimidating man broke off his gaze from Harry as he looked at the redhead. "Indeed." He said simply. He looked back at the young wizard sitting chained before him. "But first," he said as he brought his hands into view to reveal he had a cane with him. A cane that looked to be finely crafted, with a gold handle at the top that appeared to be in the form of the head of a roaring bear.

He waved the cane in the air and the chains that bound Harry instantly unclasped and dropped away. The young wizard began to rub his wrists, where the steel cuffs of the chains had been attached.

"Thanks."

The man gave the slightest of nods. "My sister and I of course already know all about you, Harry Potter. But it's time you found out who we are, particularly because it was I who brought you here." The man could already notice the many questions swirling within the young man sitting before them. "Please save your questions for later. For now, hear what we have to say."

Pulling some of her fiery red hair back and tucking it behind her ear, the woman introduced herself first. "I am Lady Ambrosia Stormhold, Princess of this little Kingdom of Azenthea."

"And I am Lord Duncan Stormhold, Prince of Azenthea." The big man introduced himself after her. He was actually a noble after all.

Harry had never heard of the Kingdom of Azenthea, though he wondered if perhaps Professor Binns had mentioned it in one of his awfully boring lectures on magical history. He wasn't surprised that he was unaware of it though, having barely paid any attention in that class. Still, with a name like Azenthea he figured he might at least have remembered hearing it. He did not however.

"Now I'm sure you're wondering why it is that I brought you here." He paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. "Well, Harry Potter, you have already seen and experienced the hardships of the Arena. And you've already met our father, who is of course King and therefore rules over Azenthea. What you don't know is who our father really is and why he runs the Arena like he does... you see, our father is an extremely ancient and powerful being.

By ancient, I mean he has lived for a thousand years. Perhaps more. Even we do not know the true age of our father. In any case, he has the trials and runs the Arena because of a simple need: in order to continue living at his present state, he requires vast amounts of life energy. He has found a way to absorb the life energy from another, but it is most effective when it is from a fresh corpse. This is because forcing the life energy out of a living being requires more effort and there will, for obvious reasons, be resistance from the target.

This diminishes the life force that he is able to absorb, and it takes a lot more time and effort to do. Not to mention the process of absorbing this life energy leaves him vulnerable for a time, thus a living target may strike him down. I'm sure he knows of other ways to do this, but I believe that his desire to be entertained has caused him to choose this path.

Regardless of why he chose this method, the fact of the matter is that it is happening and has been happening for centuries. Ever since I was capable of going out on my own, I have been tasked by my father with finding suitable candidates for his scheme. These candidates must be strong physically or possess a certain level of magical power, or even both. I travel all over the world, taking these candidates unawares and bringing them back here.

None ever survive through the five trials. Our father is entertained by the show and he continues to live thanks to the adequate supply of fresh corpses. That has been the way of life here for centuries, and at first we had accepted it... but now we wish for change. We wish to stop this madness... which is where you come in." Duncan finished his long explanation. The room was silent as Harry absorbed all this information.

Figuring it was now time for him to ask questions, Harry asked the first thing he wanted to know. "Why me?" Why did always have to be him? Why did he have to be tasked with such a daunting, dangerous, and important mission?

Even Lady Ambrosia seemed interested to know, though she tried very hard not to show it.

Duncan gave him a small smile and replied without hesitation. "It is because of the great power you possess within you, Harry Potter."

Harry furrowed his brow, confused. He had no extraordinary powers. He was no prodigy. He was an average wizard at best, and much of what he did during the war was because of his friends. He would not have survived and triumphed as he did without them, that much he was certain of. So he was hard-pressed to see what great power he exactly possessed. He voiced his doubts, and Duncan gave him a knowing smile.

"It is true that prior to today you were but an average wizard, but you have possessed a magnificent power within that had been untapped until recently." He said this with complete seriousness.

"When Voldemort failed to kill you as an infant, he imparted a piece of his soul within you. This soul fragment, being a part of such a powerful wizard as Voldemort, of course contained a great amount of magical power from the life force of said wizard. That intermingled with your own, effectively doubling your already rather large natural power to begin with. That natural power of course being passed down to you by two very magically gifted people. Your parents."

Harry now understood the sudden power and energy he found deep within himself, the one that had been both new and familiar. That was his power reserve. He wondered what had happened to trigger it to be fully accessed like that, and how powerful he had become because of now having access to it. He was still not completely convinced this was enough, however. After all, Duncan had said that the King was a powerful man who had lived for at least a thousand years. That's a long time for one to gather a lot of magical power, knowledge, and experience.

He also had one other doubt about the extent of his power. "But when I was hit by the killing curse in the Forbidden Forest," he began to say, "The fragment of Voldemort's soul that had been stuck inside of me was destroyed... and shouldn't the power that had come along with that have disappeared as well?"

Duncan shook his head. "No... and in a way, yes. Because you had been so young when it happened, the power that Voldemort's soul fragment had imparted in you was added to your natural power reserve. Essentially, your maximum power level had doubled and as you grew up, your body began to get used to having that much power and eventually because it happened to you so young the effect became permanent.

What the destruction of the soul fragment did was prevent you from siphoning anymore power from Voldemort, so unless you do any complex and, I must say dangerous, power increasing rituals your power level should now be stable."

That made sense, but Harry still had a hard time believing it. Even though he knew deep down that what he was saying was the truth, particularly given the display of power earlier during the trial and the power he now felt within him.

"Okay, let's say that what you're saying _is _true... howcome it took until today for me to access all this power?"

That question made Duncan frown a little. "I... am actually not sure of the answer to that question." He admitted. "I contemplated the matter at length when I sensed the great power that was untapped within you, and came to two theories. The first is that Voldemort's soul fragment, while strengthening your power was also corrupting it in the sense that you were unable to access the extra power that was granted to you by the fragment.

Because of the dark influence of the soul fragment, perhaps that piece of his soul was aware of what was occurring and prevented you from accessing it... and with it gone, it took your body some time before it adjusted to being able to access your powers fully. This is the theory that I think may be closest to being correct.

However, my second theory is that for some reason the extent of your powers were blocked. Either by someone else or even naturally by your body. And because of the extenuating circumstances of the trial as well as being in the right emotional state, those blocks were removed and your true power unleashed. Whatever the case, you now have access to all your power. _But _I am sure it will take some time to get used to." He finished.

Ambrosia chimed in at this point with her own thoughts on the matter. "Perhaps, dear brother, it may even be a hybrid of both those theories. I believe the first theory is more correct, but I believe that at least in part either someone or his body naturally blocked off portions of his power because he was not ready to wield it. Whether ready mentally or physically or perhaps both, it is hard to say. His ordeal earlier today broke those blocks and voila, he has his full power."

Harry again was impressed by the man's theories, as well as Ambrosia's mixed one. They made sense, though he was definitely inclined to believe the first or even the third more than the second. Some questions though, if one or the other were true, who would block his true powers and why? And if it had been a natural reaction, why would his body have done that? Was it because his body was not ready to handle it?

He made a note to ask Hermione to look into the possibilities. She would be able to get the bottom of it.

That thought though reminded him that he was unable to do so until he was free from his imprisonment here. He looked at the siblings and asked some more questions. Might as well find out as much as he could, especially since he was being given answers.

"Okay... now I have a some minor questions that I'd like you to quickly answer. Where exactly _is _Azenthea? I've never heard of it before. And how big is your kingdom? Has anyone ever won out in the Arena? Also, you mentioned that your father is at least a thousand years old... how old exactly are you?" That last question he hoped would not be seen as rude. He was genuinely curious to know.

It was Ambrosia who responded to him this time. Her voice sounded so sweet to his ears that he figured he could listen to her talk for hours on end. "Azenthea is located far to the northwest of what is now the United Kingdom. It's about as far away from the UK as the Faroe Islands are. Azenthea consists of one large, main island and several smaller islands and has an estimated population of twelve thousand men, women, and children.

The reason you haven't heard about it is because of the extensive, powerful, and ancient magical wards that protect these islands. Established in secret more than a thousand years ago, Azenthea has been hidden from the world both magical and mundane for all of its existence."

She paused, allowing him a little time to process the information while also catching her breath. "My brother and I have been alive for a long time, Harry. But nowhere near as long as our father. Let's leave it at that." Her demeanor changed a little as she answered that particular question. It clearly was not a subject she wanted to talk about.

"As for anyone winning out in the Arena..." she trailed off and shook her head with an apologetic look.

Duncan quickly said, "But I believe you will be the first, and that you will be able to put an end to this horrible practice _permanently_." He emphasized the last word.

That elicited another question, one that Harry was at this point dying to know. "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Duncan placed the cane directly in front of him, both his hands resting on the handle as he leaned forward a little and leaned on it. He looked hard at Harry. "This is not an easy task. The path to your freedom as well as to stopping this foul practice will be challenging. But as I mentioned, you have a great power at your disposal. If harnessed properly, you will be able to win out in the tournament.

However, I believe that our father will not let you go so easily. Particularly once he knows how powerful you are. I imagine he will do two things. First, he will try to get you to join him here as a loyal, honored, and highly ranked servant. Failing that, I seriously doubt he will simply let you walk away freely. You are too powerful a person and one he would be interested in... acquiring, one way or another. I believe he will therefore attack you and attempt to absorb your considerable life force."

He looked to his sister as he continued to speak. "The key is to get him to attempt to absorb your life force while you are still alive, leaving him far more vulnerable than he would normally be. Once that happens, we will intervene and help you finish him off."

"You have got to be joking." Harry said in disbelief. "_That's _your plan? To have him try to absorb my life force and then attack him as he's doing so? How the hell am I supposed to even trick him into doing that? Much less survive a battle against him long enough to even attempt it? And how long will it take you to defeat him, because I mean... I'm not even sure how long I could fight off someone trying to steal my life energy since, well, nobody's actually done that to me before." He was extremely fearful and wary of how this was all going to end. From the looks of things, it was not going to end well at all.

He looked at Lady Ambrosia, pleadingly asking, "Isn't there any other way?"

Even she shook her head though. "I'm afraid not, Harry. Our father is simply too powerful. The most opportune time to strike is when he is absorbing the life force of a living being, and one as powerful as you should be able to fight him long enough to convincingly pretend to die and, once he begins the process you must use all your will and strength to fight him off... else you be lost in the process."

She noted his lack of confidence so she tried to reassure him. "We believe that you are the one, Harry. You can do it. You _will _do it. Don't worry, we will be close by, laying in wait for the moment to strike. And when that happens, I assure you we will arrive with swift fury. My father would not be able to fight us both in his state."

Duncan nodded in agreement. "We are very powerful in our own right, Harry Potter. While we are no match for our father at his full strength, once he is weakened by the absorption process, which you should be resisting mightily, we should be able to take him down before he completes the process, regains his full powers and kills us all."

Harry was finding it difficult to see how this plan was going to be successful. There had to be some other way. He also did not like how Duncan had said that they _should _be able to take him down. Even he wasn't sure, and that made Harry feel even worse about the plan. But still, it was the only one they had. He sighed, resigning himself to the plan at least until he for whatever reason had a different idea. He doubted that would happen, but it was always a possibility and it gave him some hope.

He would take it one day at a time for now. One trial at a time. The important thing in the immediate future was to get through all the trials and win in the Arena. Then he would be able to worry about the big finale. One good thing was that at least now he had a shadow of a path to freedom.

"By the way," he broke the silence, "you never mentioned who your father is," Harry said, noting that the siblings shared a look before turning back to him.

Ambrosia responded, her usual light and pleasant voice becoming serious and grim. "He is highly intelligent, viciously ruthless, and a master sorcerer." She seemed to hesitate, as if wondering if giving him this piece of information was prudent. Then she told him anyway.

"You may know him as Merlin."

To say Harry was stunned would have been the understatement of the century, if not the millennium.

* * *

**Author's notes: **mmmm... I wish I had more time to write so I could finish this story sooner. :)


	12. The Monk

**The Kingdom**

The Monk

* * *

"Merlin..." Harry whispered, unbelieving. One of the most powerful, if not _the _most powerful wizard in history was still alive. And to make matters worse, he was the one they were supposed to kill. The one that _he_, Harry James Potter, was supposed to fight and help vanquish. Never in a million years would he have even fancied such a thought, but here he stood in the thick of it. He also never would have imagined anything worse than having to deal with Voldemort, but this definitely trumps all.

"Please tell me you're joking." he asked, and what minuscule hope he had vanished as they both shook their heads in grim silence. "Bloody hell..." Why in the world did it have to be him?

"I understand how you must be feeling right now, Harry. Suffice it to say that while this will be no easy task, but this is your only option. Other than death, of course." said Duncan.

Harry ran a hand through his dark hair. He did not like this at all, but Duncan was right. It was either their plan, or death, for he truly had no other options.

"Well, I do like living..." he said as much, though still hesitant.

Ambrosia's lips twitched into a small grin at that, and Duncan seemed to have a pleased expression on his face.

"Good. Now, you still have two more trials to endure. The next one shall be the day after next." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest. "While he does want you all to die, he also loves to be entertained. Hence why he gives you all respite after each trial. He wants you to recover enough to give a decent showing before succumbing to your eventual demise." Duncan spoke further. "So that you are aware: this next trial will be a trial of the dead. And the last trial shall be a trial of fire."

"You should be able to handle them." Ambrosia added confidently enough.

Harry gulped. He had forgotten about the rest of the trials. "Any... uhh... tips you can give me?"

The twins looked at each other. Then Duncan spoke first. "I'd suggest getting a new set of armor. Your old one is too damaged to be of much use, not to mention difficult to put on. I'll make sure you get to pass through the armory once again before heading out there. As for the sword and staff, nice choices. Particularly the staff, it is a powerful one, and one that I haven't seen since its owner first brought it here. It's almost as if you were fated to use it."

"Who was the previous owner?" he asked the prince, suddenly very interested. He did not think much of it at the time, but now that Duncan mentioned it the staff did feel good in his hands.

"I don't remember his name at the moment. And it's not important anyway, what matters is that you have a well-made staff that you should be able to put to good use," Duncan replied.

Ambrosia gave him a look, saying nothing, but Duncan did not acknowledge it as he continued to look at Harry.

There was a moment of silence, the two nobles allowing Harry to process the information they had given him. It was a lot to take in. The young wizard finally spoke up again.

"So... if we succeed..."

"_When_ we succeed," Ambrosia corrected him quickly. They needed him to have confidence in himself and the plan if they had any hopes of actually accomplishing the task.

This time Duncan glanced at his sister.

"When we succeed," Harry repeated and nodded slowly at the redhead to acknowledge that albeit hesitantly, "Will the other prisoners go free? Kao will be free?"

"Of course." replied Ambrosia, "All of us will be free," she reminded him that the entire kingdom would be affected.

Harry pursed his lips and thought for a moment, and then gave one final nod. "Okay. I'll do it."

-**xxxxxx**-

Kao sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor. The cell was uncomfortable by most standards, but for a monk, even one still in training like himself, this was not bad at all. In fact, it reminded him somewhat of the Earth Temple where he was from. He wondered whether his masters thought he had run away and if they were searching for him.

He wore robes that were several different shades of brown, indicative of his element, which was tattered and torn from all the fighting, but again this did not bother him in the slightest. Material things and physical pleasures were the least of his worries, particularly when his life was very much in danger.

He breathed in deeply, pausing for a second before exhaling as he continued to meditate. He was trying very hard to control his emotions, the strongest of which at that point were grief and a sense of hopelessness. He grieved for Sir Gregor even though he barely knew the old knight.

There was something about battles and fighting alongside someone that instantly makes you feel closer to them. It also was because of the virtuous and honorable character of Sir Gregor, not only teaming up with them to help protect them but going so far as to sacrifice his own life to save them. He was a good man, and he died a heroic and noble death, though unfortunate. With him alive it felt like they actually had a chance if they fought well together, but now he did not know.

Nothing the monks had taught him prepared him for any of this. He was only a quarter into his training when he was taken, still very much innocent and naive to the ways of the world.

He had no idea where he was, but there was clearly some society and organization here. Perhaps some far-flung magical kingdom he had never heard of in the books he had studied. Even the insignia he saw everywhere was not familiar to him.

After a while the feeling of hopelessness still lingered in his mind, though only barely. He cursed the fact that he was unable to completely clear his mind and reach his peaceful state. The stress of the recent battle was deeply affecting him, as well as the uncertainty of his future. What chance did he and Harry have to survive?

Harry was strong, he knew that much from the raw power displayed at the end of the last trial, but he did not possess the skills to wield his power properly.

Kao himself did not complete his training in the earth magics that he was gifted with. He was barely able to do what little intermediate earth magic he did know and he did not know any advanced techniques at all. From what they had experienced so far, the trials were only going to get harder, and there were two left.

The chances of surviving were very slim, let alone getting out of that wretched place alive.

He continued to breathe in and out deeply and slowly, trying to calm his mind.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that the only real option for them was to continue fighting. They could not very well simply give up and die. He knew that Harry would echo that thought. The problem, however, is not only did they not know what the next trial was but they could not even communicate in-between the trials. The prison was careful to make sure none of the prisoners ever interacted with each other.

Some time passed before he was able to enter into a peaceful trance, at which point he did not think of anything, the worry easing into oblivion as he felt peace in his mind.

-**xxxxxx**-

The young monk opened his eyes when when he heard commotion from outside his cell. It was the sound of metal boots landing on stone and the clinking of armor. Soon, the door to his prison swung open to reveal two soldiers in full armor outside in the hallway with a third behind them. Soldier number three was a few inches taller than the first two, and wore shinier armor that definitely was of a higher quality than the others.

"Get up, prisoner." said the third soldier.

Kao complied, but said nothing as he kept a neutral expression on his face.

The taller soldier then motioned to the other two, who walked over to Kao, one on either side, and grabbed him somewhat roughly by his arms. No reaction or complaints came from the young boy as he was taken all the way out of the prison and into a prison carriage similar to the ones he had been one before. This time, however, the carriage was facing the opposite direction.

Kao was very nervous and fearful on the inside and was trying hard not to show it. He did not know where they were taking him since it was clearly not the arena. He wondered if this was part of the trials. Was Harry taken in a similar manner as well? He hoped that wherever he was going he might see his friend there.

There was a sudden jolt as the carriage started moving. One of the soldiers was left inside the cell with him and the young monk could feel the man's eyes watching him from behind his helmet. He even realized that the soldier was tense - apparently he was afraid of Kao as well. Or at least very cautious. Kao wondered if he watched any of the trials from the stands or at least heard about them.

He did not know how long the trip took, his sense of time lost thanks to being cooped up in his cell for most of the time he was there. All he knew was that it was still night time, and that it had taken longer to get to wherever they were going from the prison than it took for them to get to the arena. At least that's what he thought. He was not sure.

He was taken out of the carriage, at which point he finally saw their destination and he let out a soft "wow."

They were in the middle of a massive courtyard enclosed by high stone walls, and before them stood a massive castle that could easily have been a mountain from afar. There were many soldiers about, particularly on the walls. The sky was clear, the stars shining brilliantly in all their glory, and yet Kao could not take his eyes away from the castle.

He had a bad feeling about all this, and he hoped that Harry was okay if he had been taken here as well. There was an urge to ask the soldiers about what was going on, but he figured they would either not know or would not tell him even if they did.

They took him inside the castle, entering through the main doors that had to be tall enough for a giraffe to walk through comfortably. The main hall was grand, with ceilings so high only a mountain giant would be able to reach the top. Numerous torches lit up the hall on either side. There were four soldiers by the main door, but other than them the hall was empty.

Deeper into the castle they went, and higher too. Finally, after some time, the group stopped in front of a set of wooden doors upon which were carved intricate spiral designs. The tall soldier, his shiny armor reflecting the torchlight, walked forward and opened the doors. They followed him inside.

Or outside, rather. They emerged onto a large balcony that jutted out high up on the castle. At the far edge of the balcony was a gazebo, with finely-carved designs on each pillar holding up the roof. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting up the entire gazebo.

Five soldiers stood guard in front of it.

All five wore different armor than the soldiers that accompanied Kao. Their's seemed to be made of a different material. Not only that though, but the armor had more vanity designs on them, indicative of higher rank. They looked far more menacing than the soldiers who had brought Kao, and that made the young monk feel worse.

The soldier in the shiny armor thumped a hand to his chest and bowed his head, directing the gesture to the fifth soldier who stood in the middle of the line of four. He then spoke. "I have brought the prisoner, as requested, sir."

"Good work. We'll handle it from here," replied the man who was addressed. He had his helmet off, tucked under his left arm, and looked critically at the young boy in tattered brown robes.

Kao looked back at him, trying to remain calm at least on the outside but was not doing a good job of it.

The man with his helmet off had a scars all over his face that made him look very intimidating and experienced, but also very ugly. He had brown eyes, almost black, and matching dark brown hair that went down to his shoulders. He was sporting a trimmed beard and mustache that no doubt covered up some more scars.

The young monk was let go and the three soldiers who brought him there left without another glance back.

"Come." said the man with the helmet under his arm as he turned and walked up the steps to the gazebo. The four soldiers stepped aside slightly to allow him to pass easily.

Kao followed slowly, each step leading to an increase in his heart rate. He already knew who he was meeting, the only question was why. And he did not like very much what he imagined the answer to that question was. His eyes were glued to the the old man seated in front of a table in the middle of the gazebo, smoking from a pipe, and reading from what looked to be an ancient tome.

"Your majesty. The prisoner is here." announced the soldier with his head bowed and right hand over his left breast.

The old man said nothing, though he motioned towards the chair on the opposite end of the table.

The obviously high-ranking soldier looked at Kao expectantly.

Kao slowly walked over, pulled the seat out, and sat down.

The soldier moved farther away, though remained standing and watching Kao.

The old man, with his magnificent crown on his head and his equally impressive clothing, finally placed the tome down on the table and looked at the young monk. He blew out some smoke slowly, grabbing his pipe and holding it away.

"Hello, Kao Shih-dun." the king finally greeted him, smiling in amusement as he noted the shock on Kao's face. "I have a request of you."

* * *

**Author's notes: **More coming up! Sorry it's taking so long, life outside of writing has taken over...


	13. Trouble Brewing

**The Kingdom**

Trouble Brewing

* * *

Hermione was not one to give up so easily, but this whole ordeal was beginning to test her resolve. She had been working tirelessly, often with the help of the others, and all their work so far had brought only minimal gains. The lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her, but still she persisted. Dark circles ringed her eyes and she was thinner than usual, which was actually beginning to worry everyone around her.

They discovered that there were consistent strange disappearances over the years. These disappearances, many suspected kidnappings, of witches and wizards all throughout Britain and Europe were troubling in that no one knew what happened to them and no clues at all were found during investigations into their disappearances. The only link they were able to find between them all was that they were all either very skilled with magic or had a lot of potential magic power. For the most part, the targets were those talented witches and wizards who preferred seclusion, or to at least live outside the normal areas of magical residence.

This made it easier to abduct them, particularly without anyone noticing as each case noted that it took at least two full days before the few people that knew them realized that something was amiss. This was the case with Harry, unfortunately, when he decided to hide deep in Knockturn Alley after the end of the war against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. However the big difference in his case was that Harry Potter was famous, so his disappearance would have been noted sooner.

She had wondered what had happened for the abductors to change their operating procedures and go after someone more likely to be noticed missing, and one who would no doubt garner a lot of effort and attention into finding him. Was there another prophecy that involved Harry? She hoped not. The poor boy deserved to have some peace and quiet for once in his life.

Deputy Minister Arthur Weasley thought that they would have heard from the abductors by now, probably with some demands. Either that, or Harry's vaults might have been accessed, and the goblins were cooperating with the Ministry on the matter and were keeping a closer eye than usual on the Potter accounts. So far though, the accounts were untouched and the abductors had yet to come forward.

Hermione therefore found herself at a loss of what to do next. She was originally excited, as well as a little disturbed, when she found out about the other abductions. For once since Harry had disappeared it finally felt like they were getting somewhere. Now, to have all that progress come to a screeching halt made her feel a little hopeless.

She lay in her soft bed on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Her hands were spread out on either side of her. She wondered what Harry was going through and how he must feel. To have gone through so much in the last seven years, and finally when there was a chance to have some peace and a sense of normalcy, he was once again picked on by cruel fate.

There was a light knock on her door, echoing a little in the silent room and making her glance at it.

"Hermione, dear. Dinner is ready," called the voice of her mother from beyond the closed door.

The brunette took a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts a little before she faced her parents. She noticed that they were increasingly worried about her behavior, and though they knew what was going on and why she was doing it, they still were not liking the fact that she was neglecting her body so much. If only they knew how much he meant to her, to all of them.

Besides, Harry would do the same for her if she were in his situation, of that she was certain.

"Hermione? Are you okay in there?" called her mother again, a tinge of worry laced in her voice.

Taking another deep breath, Hermione finally responded. "Yes, mother! I'll be right down."

The minor creaking of floorboards and the sound of light footsteps indicated that her mother had gone. Hermione looked back up at the ceiling and prayed to whatever gods were out there to keep Harry Potter safe.

-**xxxxxx**-

"Ronald! Would you please slow down a bit? That's very rude you know," scolded one irritated and clearly disappointed Molly Weasley.

While it was normal for Ron to eat his food quicker than anyone else, he was pushing it this time as he was shoveling food into his mouth at a faster rate than should be possible. He was trying to get food in him so fast that he was actually making quite a mess as well. Even though magic made cleaning extremely easy, it was still the principle of politeness that Ron seemed to forget and that Molly was trying to remind him of.

"Yeah, Ron. The food isn't going anywhere. You could at least make it _not_ seem like you've starved for a week," added Ginny with a look of disgust.

Ron shrugged, mumbling something with his mouth still full, and reached for a glass full of pumpkin juice as he continued to chow down. He did slow a little, though whether it was because he was getting tired or because of what his family was saying, it was hard to tell.

The sound of a door opening and closing reached their ears, indicating that the patriarch of the Weasley family had returned from work. Sure enough, Arthur Weasley, looking much more worse for wear than usual, walked in to the kitchen and sat down heavily at his seat at the table after a brief wave and nod to his family. He quickly put food on his plate and began to eat, though at a much slower rate than his son.

"Busy day at work, dear?" asked Molly, suddenly concerned. He was usually tired, but not _this _tired, nor did he return so late from work before.

He nodded absently at first as he ate some food to sate his growing hunger before finally speaking. "Busy would be the understatement of the year, Molly." This was accompanied with a tired sigh.

Ginny was suddenly curious, and more than a little worried. "What happened, dad?"

Since Arthur Weasley was Deputy Minister, he was involved in practically all important matters regarding the magical government of Britain. To have him so exhausted after work was a clear indicator that something big was going on, or at that there were at least a lot of important things happening.

He shook his head, "I... I shouldn't talk about it here. Besides, I'd rather not worry you."

Molly and Ginny both gave Arthur a hard look, while Ron continued to stuff his face at a much slower pace than earlier.

Not having the strength to argue with the two fiery redheaded women of the family, he relented. "Well, where do I even begin?" He paused to gather his thoughts. "The news that Harry Potter has gone missing and was possibly abducted will be all over the news by tomorrow morning. Word finally leaked out to the press and we could do nothing to contain it any longer. There's going to be a lot of fear and panic around, that's for sure, seeing as how our savior was kidnapped. We're going to have to call a press conference on the matter, and we don't have a lot of answers.

Making things worse, the remaining pockets of Death Eaters who we haven't been able to capture yet have banded together to form a new group called V-V-Voldemort's Vengeance. They've contacted the Ministry with demands to release their comrades locked up in Azkaban. Failure to do so would supposedly result in terrorist attacks on the population of Britain, both magical and muggle. It's all a rather nasty turn of events."

He paused to take a breath and chew some food. "And to top it all off, the Ministry is in dire straits financially. The treasury has been strained with the rebuilding costs from all the damage done during the war against V-...Voldemort. Plus all the equipment and supplies we have had to replenish and all the training expenses for the new hires... if we don't find a way to either cut spending or increase revenues, or in the best case both, the Ministry will be bankrupt within six months."

There was a stunned silence in the kitchen. Nobody moved, not even Ron, who was finally nearly done with eating so began to listen.

"Are you serious? Bankrupt? And... there are still Death Eaters?" asked the young man, draining his glass of pumpkin juice and then looking at his father. "Will this affect the Quidditch season?" he whispered, though Ginny was able to hear him and swiftly smacked him upside the head, eliciting an "ow!" from her big brother.

Arthur nodded. "This is very serious."

"Speaking of Harry... have you heard anything at all?" asked Ginny, a sliver of hope in her eyes that soon disappeared.

"Unfortunately, no. And with things going the way they are now, we're disbanding the taskforce searching for him and assigning only two people to the job. As important as it is for us to find Harry, the Ministry simply does not have the resources to spare while handling all these other problems," explained Arthur with a frown. He was not happy about the decision, but he understood the reasoning behind it.

Molly's wand was out and she flicked it, magical energy disappating for a second before a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses floated over to her. She poured the wine into both glasses and levitated one of them over to Arthur, who took it appreciatively. Ron was finally done, leaning back in his chair and letting out a satisfied and rather loud burp. Ginny was completely still in her chair, staring off into space with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Both elder Weasleys shared a glance and then took long sips of their wine.

-**xxxxxx**-

Neville Longbottom was walking back from the Hogwarts greenhouses after taking care of some of the plants when he spotted Hannah Abbott up near the castle, waiting for him. Before their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, the two of them had rarely ever hung out or seen each other outside of classes. She was a Hufflepuff and he a Gryffindor and while he did talk to her a few times, the fact that they were in two different houses meant they were often not together.

That all changed in their seventh year, with the war at its most dangerous peak. Neville became the de facto leader of Dumbledore's Army with Harry gone, and Hannah had joined the DA. He knew why she had done it: her mother was killed by Death Eaters the year before. He could relate to her, since his parents were tortured to insanity by the twisted Death Eaters, and the more time she spent with the DA the more involved the two of them got.

He did not really know how it happened. They began to talk a lot, at first mostly him giving her support and encouragement, not to mention training and orders as their leader. Then she finally began to open up more to him, and they quickly transition to close friends. By the end of it all, after the final battle that demolished half the castle, they started going out. Brought together by the trials and suffering that they both endured during the war, the two of them found comfort and strength with each other.

He wondered if this was what it meant to be in love, but he was not sure. He knew that he loved herbology and plants, and in a way he felt the same for Hannah. So perhaps this really was love.

Neville smiled back at her when he saw that she was smiling as he approached. Arms wrapped around him as Hannah closed the remaining distance between them, the side of her head resting on his broad chest. He had grown a lot over the years, much more than he had thought he would. He used to be rather small and somewhat chubby, but his hormones plus all the work he put in with the plants as well as with training to fight Death Eaters - as well as actually fighting them - led him to grow taller, leaner, and bigger.

"Morning, Hannah. This is a surprise. What brings you out here?" said Neville as he returned the hug.

She squeezed tighter for a second before letting go and breaking the hug. She looked up at his face, still smiling gently. "I thought we could have lunch together. You've been so busy lately, I've barely seen you."

Neville looked away for a moment. It was true that he had not had the time to see her in the last several days. Between his duties at Hogwarts as the new Herbology Professor and the work he put in helping to find any clues as to the whereabouts of the still missing Harry Potter, he barely had enough time for anything else. A guilty feeling engulfed him then as he looked back at her.

"I'm sorry... I've just been so busy... and, you know why."

She went to his side and wrapped an arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know," she breathed, "Now, let's go eat. You should be on your lunch break by now."

He smiled. "Yeah. I was on my way to the Great Hall, actually."

The two of them walked slowly, talking about lighter and more trivial topics as they consciously tried to avoid talking about Harry's situation or the fact that the castle was still under repair. The reconstruction and repair of the castle was actually speeding along quite nicely, but with so much damage there was still a lot of work to do. The Quidditch Pitch, in particularly, still needed to be completely rebuilt along with the bridge that went out to that part of the grounds.

One of the first parts of the castle to be finished was the Great Hall, which looked exactly as it did before the final battle, with no signs at all that it had been the site of battle and a place where they held and treated the wounded.

There was two other people in the hall: Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Charms Professor Filius Flitwick. As the two young adults entered, they greeted the two elders with smiles and waves before sitting down at one of the long student tables, eliciting a feeling of nostalgia for both of them as they thought back to their days as students there.

"I still can't believe we've graduated already... and that, you know, the war is over. It kinda feels like it was all... a dream," Hannah said as food magically materialized before them.

"Yeah. I don't think I've come to terms with it all yet either, but that will come in time," replied Neville as he took a bite out of a chicken leg, "All we can do is keep moving forward."

"You're right, Nevy," she called him by the nickname she had given him a while back. She really only did it in private, though Neville actually would not mind at all if she said that even when they had company.

"Did you say that Luna was going on a trip? I don't remember." she said before eating a piece of her waffle.

"She's leaving today, I think. Not terribly far. She and her father are heading over to Ireland for a week or two. Something about White-winged... err.. Farklesnappers?" he said, sounding unsure with the last bit. He remembered that she had told him that she actually did not want to go anymore so that she could continue helping Hermione, who was working the hardest out of all of them trying to find Harry, but that her father really needed this vacation and she needed to be there for him as well. He did spend some time in Azkaban after all, when Voldemort and his followers controlled the prison.

Hannah grinned at that. "I wish I knew her better. She always struck me as a very interesting girl."

Neville snorted. "Interesting indeed."

An owl flew in just then, circling around the Great Hall for a moment before swooping low and dropping a copy of The Daily Prophet over their heads. Neville snagged it out of the air as it fell and he watched the owl fly back out from the opening where it had originally entered from. Turning his attention to the newspaper, he unrolled it and read the headline plastered on the front page:

**HARRY POTTER, SAVIOR OF WIZARDING WORLD, IS** **MISSING:**  
_**Sources Say Kidnapped**_

He quickly began to read the article, noting that there was not much detail there and was simply a lot of speculation on the reporter's part. Maybe this would help them get more information on the matter though, since more people would be aware of it and if anyone had seen Harry or knew anything that might help they might now step forward and provide that information.

"What is it?" Hannah asked, noting the expression on his face as he read and finished reading the article.

Neville did not say anything and merely handed the newspaper over to her, which she took after taking a quick swig from her cup of tea.

"Looks like the words out now. Hopefully this will lead people who may have some information to come in," she said, putting the paper down after skimming through the article.

"My thoughts exactly," he gave a nod as he returned to eating, although he was doing it now because it was something to do to pass the time rather than because he was still hungry.

There was a sudden pop nearby, startling Hannah who jumped a little in her seat and let out a slight squeak. Neville was unfazed, accustomed to the popping sound of house elves. He wondered why a Hogwarts house elf would show up in the Great Hall like this. Then again, he had never been to the castle over the summer before so he was not exactly sure how differently things operated around here when the students were on break. This was also only his second day working at Hogwarts; he had yet to get used to life there.

He turned to the house elf, who was bowing low, and he realized then that it was the Longbottom family house elf, Quilty.

"M-Master Longbottom! Master Longbottom!" the house elf exclaimed with an alarmed look that made Neville suddenly worried, "Your gran! She-"

Neville was quick to rise to his feet, a sudden cold feeling engulfing him. "What's happened, Quilty?"

* * *

**Author's notes: **I bet you thought the others wouldn't have troubles of their own. :)


End file.
